


Rack 'Em Up

by piglet_illustrations (thefilthiestpiglet), themcgeek



Series: Rack 'Em Up [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Breast Fucking, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Shot, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom Peggy Carter, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, MCU Kinkbang 2019, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sex Toys, Squirting, Sub Natasha Romanov, Sub Steve Rogers, Threesome - F/M/M, Wall Sex, Wet & Messy, World War Threesome, literally just a lot of porn, tit fucking, write the filth you wish to read in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 09:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/piglet_illustrations, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themcgeek/pseuds/themcgeek
Summary: “Steve, darling,” Peggy says between breaths, reaching out and tilting Steve’s chin up to tear his eyes away from her breasts so that he will meet her own. “Would you like to feel them around your cock?”Surely, Steve has died. Because Agent Peggy Carter, the first woman to actually see him, the woman who had punched out Gilmore Hodge, has just asked him if he would like to fuck her tits.Well, if he’s finally died, he might as well enjoy this afterlife.------------OR5 Times Steve got to fuck someone's tits...





	1. Peggy

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! 
> 
> Ho. Lee. Shit. This was my first ever bang. "Hm. 5-10k words," I said. "It should be easy," I said. I WAS WRONG.
> 
> A HUGE HUGE HUGE Thank you to the mods for putting this together and dealing with my last minute freakouts for not being done yet.
> 
> A MASSIVE EXTRA BIG THANK YOU to thefilthiestpiglet for going ABOVE and BEYOND and doing not 1, not 2, but SIX (6)!!! Pieces of art for this story. (More on that at the end.)
> 
> Also, many thanks to Senforza, thepinupchemist, gracelesso, tajargirl, and nikkiRA for listening to me endlessly yelling about this fic while I was Not Writing this fic. I love you all.
> 
> Contained in this fic is just... a shitload of porn, y'all. So. Much. Porn.

“Private Rogers,” Peggy calls, leaning out of her closet-turned-office door. “A word, if you have a moment?”

 

Steve blinks rapidly, sharing a baffled look with Dr. Erskine. Erskine shrugs before gesturing grandly, if a little unsteadily, leaning his face close to Steve’s. “Well, boy, don’t keep the lady waiting! A woman like that...she won’t wait forever.” There was something slightly melancholy in Erskine’s glassy eyes, even as Steve’s own eyes watered from the burn of schnapps on the other man’s breath.

 

“Right. Um. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then, sir.” Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other before casting an anxious glance to where Peggy is leaning against the door frame. A small smile plays across her lips, and the tips of Steve’s ears burn the same shade of crimson.

“I suppose you will. Good night, Mr. Rogers. Do try to get some rest.” Erskine gives a sly wink, spins on his heel, and saunters down the hall, a little wobbly while whistling a jaunty tune.

 

“Steve?” Peggy’s voice is tinged with both amusement and the ever-present exasperation it carries when she deals with men. “I do believe I asked for a word. Come along.”

 

“Right. Sorry. Right away,” Steve fumbles. He doesn’t have much experience with dames, but he’s damn sure they aren’t as take-charge as Peggy Carter.

 

+++++

 

When Steve met Peggy and said he was waiting for the right partner, this wasn’t  _ quite _ what he meant.

 

Not that he’s complaining. Not at all.

 

“Nnngh, Peg,  _ God,” _ Steve gasps. “I didn’t know you--fuck, oh--even felt this way.” He could barely think straight with Peggy sucking kisses across his collarbone, dragging her teeth across the sharp angles of them, leaving streaks of red in her wake.

 

“Well,” she murmurs against his skin, raking her nails down the birdcage of his ribs. “I thought it was a shame that no one had showed this body--had showed  _ you _ \--the attention you deserve.” Peggy tears her mouth away from Steve’s clavicle to run her tongue up the column of his throat, making sure to suck on his Adam’s apple and leave a messy red circle around it, before moving across to his other side. “A shame,” she whispered, removing her hands from Steve’s flushed chest and moving it to her blouse, deftly undoing the buttons.

 

Steve whines high in his throat. “Please, Peg, let me touch you. Let me help undress you,  _ something _ .” He can barely stand the sight of her as she pulls back, slowly working her blouse off, leaving her standing in just her brassiere and skirt.

 

“Come now, Steve. You and I both know this will go so much faster if I do it myself.” Peggy reached behind her, raising her eyebrows as Steve makes an aborted gesture toward her. “Besides, Dr. Erskine wanted you to get some rest. We don’t have  _ all _ night. A pity, that. The things I’d like to do…”

 

His breath catches in his throat as his lungs spasm painfully in his chest. “What things,” Steve rasps. “What things do you wanna do, Peg?” Steve’s long fingers curl around the edge of Peggy’s desk, knobby knuckles pressing white against paper-thin skin. 

 

Peggy hums as she sways closer to where Steve stands completely rigid. When she finally draws level with him once again, she places a chaste kiss against his slack lips before sinking to her knees.

 

“Oh God,” Steve wheezes. His knees nearly buckle, and it’s his death-grip on the desk that keeps him upright. Peggy flashes him a brilliant grin, and Steve thinks she’s never looked more beautiful. 

 

“Are you ready, Steve,” she croons softly, brows furrowed slightly in concern even as she reaches up and begins to undo his slacks. Peggy is efficient, calm, and, Steve thinks, just as talented at this as anything else that he’s seen her do. Then again, unbuttoning pants is hardly the most difficult of tasks.

 

Steve is completely and utterly at her mercy. “Fuck, yes, anything you want,” he groans, trying not to buck his hips as Peggy runs her nose up the solid line of his erection. 

 

“Anything,” she says against his shorts. Steve can almost  _ feel _ Peggy’s smirk as she presses her face into the crook of his thigh. She nips at his sharp hipbone and he makes a tiny thrust toward the heat of her mouth. “Oh, darling, I’m afraid we don’t have  _ nearly _ enough time for that. For now…” she trails off, and reaches up and pulls his pants and shorts down.

 

Steve nearly comes on the spot as his cock smacks against his belly, leaving a shiny streak of precome behind. “Peg, please, need you, need  _ something. _ ” His head is spinning, and he feels like he’s losing the thread of reality. Steve’s cock bobs toward Peggy’s face with each thud of his arrhythmic heart, and he can barely stand the sight.

 

“Good things come to those who wait,” Peggy sing-songs before dragging her mouth against Steve’s cock, her lower lip catching and skipping, red lipstick now leaving traces of pink. “But I suppose you’ve waited long enough,” she sighs, and without warning she rears back and swallows Steve’s cock down to the back of her throat, the tip of her nose just barely brushing his wiry hair. 

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” Steve spits out, and grips the desk so hard he bends a ragged fingernail. He longs to bury his fingers into Peggy’s chestnut curls, to remove the pins and watch them tumble around her face as she continues to swallow him down. “Peggy, doll, you gotta slow down. I ain’t gonna last ‘f you keep up like that.” Already he can feel the first stirrings of his orgasm swirling low in his stomach.

 

The hum that Peggy lets out as she pulls off his cock with a soft “pop” nearly undoes Steve completely. “Well then, let’s try something else, shall we? Sit in the chair.” She sits back on her heels to let Steve scramble around to her desk chair, still pushed back from when she made her decision to call him into her office some time before. “I don’t have any protection, and I don’t imagine you do, either, am I correct?”

 

Face flaming, Steve shakes his head. He couldn’t have expected this, not in a hundred years. He was gonna go off like a teenager touching their prick the first time. Like he did when he was twelve after he got home from Mass and Father McKetty had been talking about pleasures of the flesh. Like he did the first time he heard Bucky make time with one of his dates in their shared bedroom when he was supposed to be asleep. When he drags himself back into the present, Peggy has removed her brassiere completely and is kneading her surprisingly ample breasts, her fingers dimpling the soft flesh.

 

“Would you like to feel them, Steve?” A rosy pink nipple flashes between two elegant fingers before disappearing again. It must have pinched slightly, because Peggy’s breath hitches slightly and her head drops back. A sweet smile ghosts across her face as her mouth drops open.

 

“Oh, please,  _ yes _ , Peg.” As soon as Peggy is within arms’ reach, Steve’s big hands replace Peggy’s delicate ones. He groans at the give of the supple flesh, at the way she shivers when he squeezes just hard enough to cause a little pain. She’s panting now, her breaths nearly in time with Steve’s own. Each inhale presses her chest into his hands a little harder, causes his artist’s calluses to scrape across her tender nipples a little rougher.

 

“Steve, darling,” Peggy says between breaths, reaching out and tilting Steve’s chin up to tear his eyes away from her breasts so that he will meet her own. “Would you like to feel them around your cock?”

 

Surely, Steve has died. Because Agent Peggy Carter, the first woman to actually  _ see _ him, the woman who had punched out Gilmore Hodge, has just asked him if he would like to fuck her tits. 

 

Well, if he’s finally died, he might as well enjoy this afterlife.

 

Peggy’s laughter peals clear as church bells as she sees the precome well up from the tip of Steve’s cock at the thought. “I suppose that’s a yes, then?”

 

“ _ God _ , yes.” Steve honestly doesn’t know how he’ll be able to last. Or even come close to lasting. And what is Peggy getting out of this?  _ Oh God, what is he supposed to do? _

 

“Relax, Steve. This is about you. And you need to relax.” With that, Peggy leans forward and Steve’s cock sinks between her breasts. “Oh,” Peggy sighs. “That’s it, darling. Now it’s up to you. Do what feels right. I’ve got you.” Steve slowly begins to rock his hips, and his cock rubs between Peggy’s tits. “You’re so good, Steve, so good for me.”

 

“Peg,” Steve gasps, and he begins to move his hips a little faster. His cock is continuously dripping precome now, and it slicks the way, easing the friction and making the glide smooth. His breaths whistle a little on the exhale, but that’s nothing new when it comes to getting himself off.

 

Peggy, it seems, has abandoned speaking in favor of ducking her head down to flick her tongue out and lap at Steve’s cock each time it emerges from between her breasts. She groans at the first taste of precome, and strains even further to try and lick up more, and to show Steve how much she is enjoying herself, too.

 

“‘M close.” Steve is barely holding on, now. The heat in his gut has become an inferno. He can feel the pressure, the fire pulling from his tailbone and from his balls. “Peg, Peg, doll, ‘m gonna come. Gonna-” Steve would deny until his deathbed that the sound he makes is a shriek. The night janitor mopping the floors outside would beg to differ. 

 

Come streaks Peggy’s throat and chest, even reaching her chin and across her lips, still smeared with Victory Red. She laughs again, that church bell laugh, and licks her lips like a cat with cream. “Oh, well done, Steve. You’ve done so well,” she sighs. Her hands slide up from the sides of her breasts to where the cooling mess of Steve’s come is splattered across her, and she begins to rub it into her skin, moaning softly.

 

Steve wheezes and tries to reign himself in. As much as his orgasm took his breath away, Peggy makes him even more breathless. She looks absolutely blissful, and she hasn’t even come yet. He wants to fix that. “Peg, please. Show me how to touch you.”

 

Peggy nods as she lays back on the floor, knees raised. “Stay in your seat, Steve, and enjoy the show.”

 


	2. Peggy/Steve/Bucky

“Unbelievable. I’m turning into you. I’m invisible.” Bucky already had the look of shell shock about him, but when Peggy walks past him in  _ that dress _ without a second glance, his thousand-yard stare goes even further.

 

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, Buck. There’re worse things.” He gets up as if to follow Agent Carter, a bull after the matador’s red cape, and nearly trips over his own feet when she stops right between their two barstools.

 

“Captain. Sergeant. I notice you’re not with the rest of your, ah…” A raucous cheer erupts from across the bar, and Peggy flinches as she hear’s Dugan’s distinctive “wahoo” echo through the room. “Commandos,” she finishes dryly.

 

Bucky glances back and forth between Steve and Peggy, not entirely sure what’s happening. “Well, uh, Agent Carter, ma’am, we…” He gestures grandly at Steve, who is being incredibly  _ not helpful _ . Realizing that Steve is perfectly content to leave him hanging, Bucky stomps on his star-spangled booted foot with all the force he can muster.

 

“We’re just catching up,” Steve practically shouts. “Marching back from occupied territory, not the best time for small talk,” he laughs nervously, desperately trying to maintain eye contact with Peggy as her eyebrows climb steadily toward her perfectly coiffed hair.

 

“Well,” she tuts. “A noisy bar like this certainly doesn’t seem the best place for small talk, does it?” When neither of the blank faced men before her answer, Peggy shifts her weight to her other foot, cocking her hip out to exaggerate the curve of her waist. “Hmm?”

 

Both men continue to blink stupidly for several moments before they seem to get their wits about them. “Oh!” They exclaim in unison. 

 

“No, ma’am,” Steve splutters, at the same time Bucky says, “of course not.”

 

Victory red lips split over pearl white teeth in a predator’s grin. “That’s what I thought. Come along, then.” Without a second glance, Peggy turns and heads out the way she came with her head held high.

 

Steve immediately follows like a dog brought to heel, while Bucky slumps against the bar and reaches for his glass. He’s barely alone for a moment before he hears the clacking of heels that announces Carter’s return.

 

“Barnes,” she sighs, “do try to keep up.”

 

+++

 

One of the perks of being the lone woman forced to travel across warzones with men, Peggy mused, was getting your own quarters when the opportunity presented itself. Such as now, in a half bombed out London hotel, with two gorgeous and semi-terrified American soldiers seated in front of her.

 

“Gentlemen,” she hums, smiling as she kicks off her shoes. “Welcome to my private rooms.” Steve, bless him, has been alternating between blushing cherry red and going white as a sheet. You’d think after what they got up to the night before Project Rebirth he’d be a little less shy, but oh well. Peggy doesn’t mind; he’ll be more fun this way, and his skin turns the loveliest shade of pink.

 

Barnes, though. Always the soldier, that one. He’s got his eyes on Peggy, but his awareness is almost completely on Steve. It’s always on Steve, to be fair. And Steve, tactical genius that he is, is quite possibly the only person on the continent who hasn’t noticed. Peggy isn’t blind to the looks that Barnes sends her way, the ones that he only casts when Steve isn’t around to notice. 

 

Poor, oblivious, Steve. How long has he fought the world, Barnes at his side, shouting at the injustice of it all? How long as he wanted to have someone to share that passion with? How long has he looked right past Barnes, never realizing that he’s there, ready and waiting, society be damned?

 

“Peg?” Steve shifts his weight anxiously, and it pulls Peggy from her maudlin thoughts.

 

“Sorry, darling. I got lost in my head for a moment, there. Now. Where were we?”

 

+++

 

Steve’s entire body is a livewire, and nothing has even happened. He and Bucky are simply sitting side by side on Peggy’s bed. Everyone is fully clothed. But he is too  _ hot _ . His skin chafes everywhere that his uniform touches it, and he swears he can feel the heat from Bucky’s body radiating toward him. The new and improved, serum-enhanced heart feels like it’s going to pound out of Steve’s chest and to the floor at Peggy’s feet. 

 

And the whole time, she stands in front of him, in front of  _ them _ , smiling. “Steve, come here, would you please?” Peggy’s bright laugh echoes in the sparsely furnished room when Steve nearly trips over his feet in his haste to comply. There’s a sound behind him, one as familiar as breathing; Bucky’s barely contained and slightly hysterical laughter.

 

Peggy extends her hand toward him, and Steve absently notices that her nails are broken and her cuticles are slightly ragged. Maybe she’s nervous, too. She hides it well, though, and once he’s within reach, she grabs the front of his jacket and pulls him closer.

 

“Relax, darling,” she breathes, as she gently slides her hand up his chest, his neck, before coming to rest at the base of his skull. Steve shivers as those sharp, broken nails scratch through the short hair that grows there. There’s nothing but the sound of their breathing for a few moments, until Peggy moves her hand up into the longer hair where she knots her fingers and  _ yanks _ Steve toward here.

 

He falls forward with a slight, “oof,” and it’s only the grace of the serum that keeps them from toppling to the floor. Peggy’s mouth is immediately upon Steve’s, and there is nothing sweet or gentle about this kiss. It’s not like their first kiss had been, not tentative or chaste. This is a kiss borne of hunger and desperation, of the knowledge that their time together may be short, that they may not get another chance. Her tongue plunges into his mouth, barely waiting for him to open his lips, and there is no question of who is in charge tonight.

 

A sharp inhalation comes from the bed, and Peggy pulls back suddenly from Steve with a loud smacking sound to look over his shoulder at Bucky, whose eyes were darting around the room.

“Barnes, is there a problem?”

 

“Ah, no, ma’am. Just, not sure about my place here. Not exactly sure why you wanted me around.” If he’d been standing, he’d be shifting from foot to foot, maybe moving his hands into and out of his pockets.

 

Peggy strokes her fingers through Steve’s hair, soothing him while he rests his forehead on her shoulder, breathing wetly into her collarbone. She barely suppresses a shiver when she pastes on her best smirk and tells Bucky, “Well then you best march over here, then, soldier. Come on, hup hup.”

 

Bucky can’t stand up fast enough. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Once he’s standing, though, he makes his best effort to regain some of the cool swagger that had been so infamous in Brooklyn. He can tell by the way Peggy arches an eyebrow that she sees right through him, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on a show. 

 

Much like when Steve had approached, Peggy reaches a hand toward Bucky, and grabs a hold of him when he’s within reach. “Tell me, soldier. Do you find me attractive?”

 

Steve rolls his head to watch Bucky through his eyelashes when he hears the other man scoff. “Carter, that’s like asking if Steve’s an overgrown puppy. I’d have to be blind to not find you attractive. The fact that you saw something in him when no one else did, that you looked out for him when I couldn’t well…” He trails off sheepishly, afraid he’s said too much.

Peggy hums, a pleased smile playing across her lips. They had, as always, been painted red when they arrived to this room, but the force of her kiss with Steve has smeared it to a pink on her cheek and chin. Bucky, truthfully, has never seen a more beautiful woman. 

 

“And Steve?” Both men inhale sharply, afraid of where her question may lead. “Do you find him attractive?”

 

“Well, he’s got that new Charles Atlas thing goin’ on, he was scientifically-”

 

“That’s not what I asked, Barnes. Do you. Find Steven. Attractive?”

 

There’s a pregnant pause, and a moment of eye contact between the two men before Bucky closes his eyes and furrows his brow, looking pained. “Of course I do,” he whispers roughly. “Always have. Prettiest thing I ever seen, no offense, ma’am.”

 

Steve’s rough exhalation is covered by Peggy’s “None taken, Barnes. Thank you for your candor,” but Bucky feels the soft breath wash over him. It feels just the same as it did back in Brooklyn, when they would huddle together on a tiny bed, pretending it was to share body heat and nothing more.

 

Peggy gently tips Bucky’s face up with a finger to his chin. “Open your eyes, please.” He does, and wills his chin to not tremble, not when she could feel it. “Let go of your fear, just for tonight, Barnes. It’s just us. Your secret is safe with me.” She smiles as soft as her voice had been before leaning in and kissing him with just as much kindness. “Now. Let’s put you both at ease, and move this night along, shall we?”

 

At this, Steve finally picks his head up, not daring to get his hopes up only to be disappointed. His eyes keep darting back and forth, unable to rest on Bucky or Peggy for more than a moment. Bucky, for his part, hasn’t looked away from Steve since pulling away from Peggy’s kiss. He’s always been looking at Steve.

 

“Kiss him, Barnes. Don’t be afraid. Look at how much he wants it.” Peggy’s practically purring now, but Bucky can barely hear her for the blood rushing in his ears. 

 

Steve’s breathing has gone shallow, and if he didn’t know any better he’d think he was having an asthma attack. But his asthma is long behind him, and now he can truly be sure it’s Bucky making him feel this way.

 

They move toward each other at the same time, their hands reaching out desperately like the other is falling out of reach. Peggy sighs and it comes out almost as a whine as the two men groan in unison before their mouths meet. For all that they had lurched toward each other with reckless abandon, the kiss is gentle, as so many first kisses are. Bucky shudders and moves trembling hands to frame Steve’s jaw, gently stroking his thumb over the coarse stubble that has 

grown in thick during the day. He so rarely had to shave, before. He feels more than hears Steve’s whimper as his battle-scarred hands skim down the pale column of his throat and neck, and across his impossible shoulders.

 

Plush, petal soft lips press a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw before moving away. When he inhales, he smells rose petals and gunpowder as Peggy’s soft brown curls, now tumbling loose, brush against his cheek. “Steve, darling,” she whispers. “Can you feel it, now?”

 

Bucky slits one eye open and sees that Peggy has now pressed her mouth to Steve’s ear, and is flicking it with her tongue and nipping it with her teeth every chance she can, with every word. Steve, for his part, has his eyes scrunched so tightly closed that his lashes, impossibly long as they are, have nearly disappeared, and his shoulders are rising and falling rhythmically with each heaving breath. 

 

“I asked you a question, Steve,” Peggy demands, biting a little harder. Steve lets out an involuntary sound somewhere between a grunt and a whine as he crumples forward into Bucky’s hold. 

 

Bucky stifles a gasp and moves a hand down to grip one of Steve’s impossibly narrow hips. It almost feels like this part of him stayed the same. Eyes, mouth, hands, feet, and hips. Little Steve Rogers is still there for the world to see, if they only know where to look. Peggy and Bucky know where to look, even if there’s no one else left who does. When Steve grinds his forehead into Bucky’s clavicle, and begins lipping at his neck, Bucky squeezes those hips so tightly he’s sure the bones will leave bruises on his hands. He wishes he could be the one leaving bruises, but it is no hardship to wear a mark of Steve’s.

 

“Beautiful boys,” Peggy sighs from somewhere above their heads. “We don’t have all night, sadly. Time to strip down.” Reluctantly, the two men pull away from each other, shivering from both the chill and the separation. Steve reaches for the hem of his shirt as Bucky reaches for the button of his pants. They barely remember Peggy is in the room until she barks, “ah ah! Each other, if you don’t mind, there’s my good boys. Give a girl a show, why don’t you?”

 

When Steve grins with his kiss-bitten, lipstick smeared mouth, it’s like the sun breaking at dawn. His entire face is alight, and Bucky is warmed down to his soul for the first time since Azzano, and he can’t help but grin back as he reaches for Steve’s shirt. With their military precision and Peggy’s guidance, they are both disrobed in mere moments, naked but for their shorts. That last step, it seems, is something to be savored. 

 

Peggy smiles at them both in agreement. “To the bed, please.” Bucky nods at her and reaches his hand out to Steve. Steve hesitates for barely a moment, glancing back at Peggy to see her encouraging nod before lacing his fingers tightly with Bucky’s to be led to the bed, where they lay down facing each other. 

 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve whispers once his head is settled on the pillow. He sounds shy, almost in the same way he always did at the beginning of his doomed dates back in Brooklyn.

 

“Heya, Stevie,” Bucky whispers back. A heavy sigh comes from deep within him, and Steve’s hair flutters slightly as his eyes slip closed. Bucky reaches a hand up and traces his fingers over Steve’s strong eyebrows, down his crooked nose from where Davey MacMillan busted it before Bucky got there. He feels the mattress shift and glances back to see where Peggy has climbed onto the bed and is sitting between Steve and Bucky’s ankles demurely, clad in nothing but her underthings.

 

“Go on,” she murmurs. “He wants you to. You can have this.”

 

Blinking hard for a moment, Bucky nods before turning back to Steve, whose mouth has parted slightly again with his breathing. Fascinated, Bucky smoothes his thumb over that full bottom lip, pulling it slightly away from the rest of his mouth so he catches a glimpse of bone-white teeth. Steve’s breath catches and his tongue darts out as if to wet his lips, and it catches Bucky’s thumb instead. Immediately, both of them moan and crash together like a wave at the shore.

 

“Yes,” they hear Peggy groan from somewhere behind them. Bucky slides his mouth away from Steve’s to look at her questioningly, and sees her kneading her breasts through her brassiere, pinching her nipples between her knuckles every so often. “Don’t dally, Barnes,” she gasps. “Get to it!”

 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he rasps, and he turns his mouth back into Steve’s, forcing the other man to abandon his jaw for the time being. There will be plenty of time for that later, after all.

 

After what seems like hours of kissing, but could have been minutes, or even seconds, Steve and Bucky are trying to crawl into each other’s skin. Peggy had to shift her position to accommodate them, and is now straddling their shins, lightly grinding against them where they’re tangled together. Bucky has slipped his fingers just beneath the elastic waist of Steve’s shorts, and is kneading and scratching gently at the hot skin he finds there, while Steve has his hands knotted tightly in Bucky’s hair like he is afraid to let go.

 

“Peg,” Steve groans as he thrusts his hips forward into Bucky’s hardsoftwarm body. “Please, please can we take our clothes off. I can’t stand it. ‘M dyin’, Peg.” His voice is breaking like it hasn’t since he was fifteen, and Bucky would smile if he wasn’t out of his mind with lust.

 

She ruts down a little harder against their legs, and Bucky feels a definite dampness left behind, causing him to groan along with her. “Oh, darling, you asked so nicely. Yes, yes of course.” She stands up to give them room, and Bucky is frozen as he looks up at her. Peggy looks absolutely debauched, and like the most powerful being on Earth. She towers over them, hair askew, makeup smeared, and her eyes as bright as coals. “Get a move on, Barnes,” she says lowly as she reaches behind her to remove her brassiere, and begins to shimmy out of her underpants and stockings.

 

Judging by the gut-punched sound Bucky hears next to him, Steve isn’t doing a whole lot of moving, either. “Jesus, Peg,” Steve groans. Bucky sees a blur of movement next to him, and then Steve is sitting up and wrapping his arms around Peggy’s waist. She laughs, high and bright, and combs her fingers through his hair. Steve’s answer, whatever it was, is muffled by where is face is pressed into the softness of her hips.

 

Bucky rolls onto his back and laces his fingers behind his head, content to watch the show for now. He’s not jealous anymore, Peggy made sure of that. He’s here, naked, or near enough, in a bed with the two of them. He has kissed Steve, and  _ Steve kissed him back. _ He can breathe. He can rest.

 

Steve and Peggy are gently swaying side to side, and she is still combing her fingers through his hair like he is an overgrown housecat. Bucky smiles beatifically at her, and she smiles back, eyebrows moving high up her forehead. “Okay?” she mouths. He nods at her, and her grin turns wicked. On the next stroke of her fingers, they tighten at the crown of Steve’s head, yanking it back so he is forced to look up the length of her body and into her eyes.

 

“Steven, I think it’s time to give Barnes a show. Give a girl a lift,” she bats her lashes like a Hollywood damsel in distress, and lifts her leg to hook a knee over his shoulder.

 

Bucky’s eyes widen. Surely she can’t--

 

“ O’course, Peg,” Steve mumbles, and he grabs her other thigh and lifts her so her ankles are crossed behind his back, and her ass is supported by his hands, placing her center--

 

“Oh, God,” Bucky croaks.

 

“Mmf,” Steve agrees. 

 

“Yes,” Peggy cries.

 

Soft, wet sounds that pulse in time with the slight movements of Steve’s golden head and the undulations of Peggy’s hips reach Bucky’s ears, pulling him out of his aloof posture. Peggy, of course, notices, and laughs lightly through a panted breath as he crawls forward on hands and knees until he gets almost close enough to see. The angle isn’t quite right, but he can fill in the blanks.

Steve’s long, thick fingers are spread wide across Peggy’s generous ass, dimpling the flesh beneath them. His thumbs are up near his face, holding her lips wide and shining with her wetness so his tongue can dart between them. Every few strokes, they move together, nearly dipping inside her, causing her hips to stutter from their steady rhythm, before smoothing back up the outside and making way for his tongue to reach out again. 

 

It’s clear to Bucky that this isn’t Steve’s first time, but he perhaps, doesn’t have quite as much practice at the task. Despite that, Carter does seem to be having a good time, judging by the increasing volume of her breaths. 

 

“Steve, darling, down, please. I need down, let Barnes see.” Peggy’s voice is getting thready, and Bucky can hear how much effort she is putting in to trying to keep up the facade of authority. She nearly loses it when Steve presses her cunt even harder to his face as he spins them around and drops her to the mattress, using his meaty forearms to pin her thighs wide.

 

Bucky shifts, intrigued, and presses himself against Steve’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder. Steve still has his fingers stretched wide, and has kept his thumbs in place to keep Peggy spread for him. “Good, Steve,” he purrs, laying gentle kisses below Steve’s ear. “She likes that, can you see?” He sees Steve’s lids shift as his eyes dart up to take in the sight of Peggy, one hand buried in her hair, and the other desperately kneading at her breast.

 

“Yeah,” Steve rumbles in that deep voice of his. “Yeah, I see her. What now, Buck? Tell me what to do.” Bucky is dizzy with want from the words alone, but then Steve arches his back and grinds his ass back into Bucky’s cock, causing both of them to groan. 

 

“Ngh, Stevie, keep that up, doll, and it’ll be over before it starts. Don’t wanna let Agent Carter down, do ya?” Steve’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head in the negative. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, why don’t you get back to what you were doing, huh?” 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, nodding once before he dives back between Peggy’s thighs. 

 

The moment he’s within reach, one of Peggy’s hands latches into Steve’s hair, pulling sharply. Not enough to dislodge him, but enough to cause a twinge of pain to skitter from his scalp down through his spine. “I’ll thank you,” Peggy pants, “to continue to perform the job I asked of you,  _ Captain _ .” Her voice has regained some of its steel, but she’s looking at Bucky as she makes her wishes known. Steve mumbles something in the affirmative that is muffled by Peggy’s cunt, and Bucky shrugs apologetically before leaning over to whisper in Steve’s ear again.

 

“Alright, pal, now. How’s about you try somethin’ a little different for the lady, yeah? Give her a nice long lick, all the way up. Bet she tastes so sweet.” Bucky’s eyes are glued to where Steve’s mouth meets Peggy’s body as Steve heeds his advice, for once. He slows his tongue from its rapidfire flicks and twitches to a longer, slower stroke that punches a guttural sound out of Peggy and makes her arch her shoulders away from the mattress. “Good, good. Now, feel her little button, there? Give it a little suck. Suck on it, Stevie, till I tell you to stop.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Peggy sighs. “Barnes you are a genius, you are inva-ah-aluable to this operation.” Bucky can tell by her words the exact moment that Steve figured out what he meant and started going to town.

 

It’s not long before Peggy is making high, pained noises in her throat with each exhale, and is slightly convulsing with each stroke of Steve’s tongue or caress of his lips. “She’s getting close, Steve,” Bucky said, crowding closer to Steve once more, and ignoring his aching cock for a little longer. “She’s real close, and you’re doin’ real good with your mouth, but you need to give her a hand, pal.” He huffs out a laugh at himself before continuing. “Take one’a your hands off her hips, there ya go. Now, gentle, put a finger in her.” Bucky wishes he could see Steve’s look of wide eyed golden surprise as he feels everything and sees it all for the first time. “When she’s good’n relaxed, add another one. Just listen, Steve, and she’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

 

Bucky doesn’t know where to look. Steve’s eyes are closed and he looks like he’s receiving the Body of Christ at communion, the rapture on his face is so complete. Further up the bed, Peggy’s hair is spread across the pillow in a dark halo, and the curves of her body make her look like that painting of Venus that Stevie showed him once, back home. They are, together and separate, so beautiful it makes his heart hurt, and Bucky sends a prayer to whatever deity is listening to thank them for letting him have this, even for a little while.

 

Soft hums and moans are increasing in volume from both Steve and Peggy, and Bucky can see where Steve’s brows are knitting together. “Steve, more,” Peggy demands. He doesn’t appear to hear her, or else he’s ignoring her, because he doesn’t change his pace, though he does moan loudly when she ruts up hard against his face. “Steve, damn you, give me more!” Tired of waiting, she reaches down and knots her fingers in his hair, right down to the scalp before pulling him in even harder.

 

“Oh, now you’ve done it, Stevie,” Buky chuckles lowly. He leans in close to Steve again and presses a chaste kiss to Peggy’s knuckles before laying another one behind Steve’s ear. “Give the lady what she wants, come on now. Don’t forget about your tongue. It never stops waggin’ any other time.”

 

“It’s not just his mouth,” Peggy pants, “that I need more of. If you’re going to help him, Barnes, then you’d bloody well better help.”

 

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Bucky winks at her, a hint of Brooklyn in his eyes, before he returns to the task at hand. “Y’hear that, Stevie? It’s your hands the lady wants. D’ya think you can do it?” He barely realizes that he’s panting too, that his chest is heaving in time with Steve’s. But he does feel the way his sweat-slick skin slides over Steve’s, the gentle rasp of his chest hair over the smooth expanse of Steve’s muscled back, the rhythmic flexing of Steve’s arm where he’s pushing it toward Peggy over and over.

 

“Mm-mm,” Steve whimpers into Peggy’s cunt. He shakes his head, too, causing her to gasp sharply and then giggle.

 

“Do you want my help, Stevie? D’ya want me to show you?”

 

“I want you to show him, Barnes. Show him how to use his hands.” Peggy’s hips are rolling continuously into Steve’s face and hand, and she sounds absolutely wrecked, but she fixes Bucky with a clear, steady gaze. “Teach him. Let yourself have this. Let go, James.”

 

Wordlessly Bucky nods, blinking a couple times before dipping his head to kiss where Steve’s neck meets his shoulder. Steve whimpers a little bit at that, and Bucky grins against the dampened skin. “Let me help you, Stevie.” He keeps kissing and biting at that same spot, raising welts that blossom and fade right before his eyes as he trails his hand down Steve’s arm, to his hand, where he feels the stickywet traces of Peggy’s arousal. “C’mere, pal, gimme your hand. Sorry, Peg.” 

 

Steve pulls his hand back from where he’d been pumping one finger in and out of Peggy at a steady pace, and waits for Bucky’s instruction with the tip of his finger resting just at the entrance to Peggy’s body. He can feel the heat radiating from her, and can feel the wetness steadily dripping from her. All the while, Peggy continues undulating her hips, rolling her clit further up into Steve’s mouth.

 

With all the tenderness and shyness of first time lovers, Bucky laces his fingers with Steve’s so both their palms are facing up. Peggy’s motions have gotten more frantic the longer it has taken them to return to the inside of her, and Bucky can’t help but relish a little in her desperation. “There, Stevie, y’see how bad she wants it,” he whispers into Steve’s ear, ruffling the fine blond hair he’s always loved before diving back down to bite at his neck some more.

 

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, pulling his mouth away with an audible sucking sound and rubbing that great crooked nose against where it had been. “Yeah, I see it. What now, Buck? Tell me what to do?”

 

Bracing his weight more securely on his knees, Bucky uses his other hand to grab Steve’s head and bring him around for a ferocious kiss, all tongues and teeth and the taste of Peggy Carter smeared across their lips. It only lasts for a brief moment before he shoves Steve’s head back down between Peggy’s thighs and plunges their index fingers into her as deep as they can go.

 

Peggy wails so loud the sound reverberates back to them from the cracked ceiling and walls, but she hasn’t even come yet. “Yes, there you go, beautiful boys. Now, Barnes, I need you to  _ show him _ .” 

 

This time Bucky doesn’t remove himself from where he’s kissing and licking every part of Steve he can reach, he simply speeds up the pace of their fingers where they plunge in and out of Peggy’s body. Steve makes a slightly surprised sound when Bucky clenches his hand to begin the movement, but it is quickly subsumed by the throaty laugh that is punched out of Peggy. When Bucky glances up at her, he sees an expression of pure joy. The hand that once had a white knuckled grip on Steve’s hair has loosened to a gentle cradle, and the other one is near her face, the thumb stroking softly over that plump lower lip. 

 

“Stevie, remember,  _ listen to her body _ , okay? I’m right here with you, doll.” He presses his face into Steve’s neck and just breathes. Bucky can have this. He can. Peggy said so. For tonight, he is with Steve.

 

When Peggy’s hips start to rock faster, Bucky feels his hand being moved faster by Steve’s, and everyone’s breathing starts to come a little harder. “Okay, doll, you’re doing good, now follow my lead, okay?”

 

Steve nods, and Peggy squeals, her hips stuttering up into Steve’s mouth.

 

“Oh, honey, she’s close. Follow my lead, Stevie, and  _ don’t stop. _ ” Making sure his finger is nestled right next to Steve’s, Bucky curls it back towards himself as they pull it out, before straightening it again on the inward stroke. After only one or two repetitions, Steve catches on, and with each additional thrust and caress, the slick sounds in the room grow in volume.

 

“My boys, oh, my lovely boys. Don’t stop, don’t stop,  _ please _ -” Peggy trails off nonsensically, and her movements grow increasingly uncoordinated. Steve can no longer keep his mouth completely attached to her, and Bucky finds himself growing impossibly harder at the sucking sounds coming from just slightly in front of him. 

 

Both men’s fingers are completely soaked now, and their hands are growing slipperier by the minute with each movement they make. It’s Bucky who feels the first ripple, as Peggy’s indecipherable ramblings cut off with a squeak. “Stevie, baby, faster. She’s coming, she’s comin-”

 

Peggy  _ screams _ before jackknifing off the bed, clutching their wrists and holding their hands inside her, where Bucky and Steve continue to pulse their fingers. Now that she’s sitting up, Peggy rides the waves of her orgasm in earnest, and the two men groan and rut against each other and the mattress in rhythm while her wetness drips down their hands, all the way to where their wrists are pressed together.

After the aftershocks subside, Peggy’s bell-like laughter rings through the room again and she falls back to the mattress. “Oh, my beautiful boys. You are so, so wonderful. Thank you. Now.” She props herself up on her elbows, eyes glittering in the lamplight. “I do believe it is someone else’s turn?”

 

Steve is still laying on his stomach, forehead pressed to the bed, while Bucky is stretched out atop him, grinding into that perfect peach of an ass. Bucky presses a kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck, earning him a soft, “oh,” before raising his head to meet Peggy’s gaze. “What did you have in mind, Carter?”

 

The grin she gives is absolutely predatory. “Well, Barnes, Why don’t you come up here and see?” Peggy shifts a little more, bringing her knees up to rest her chin on them, an uncharacteristically shy pose, were it not for the fact that she’s entirely nude.

 

Fabric rustles as Steve crosses his arms under his head, pillowing his cheek on his hand, a soft smile on his face. “Go on, Buck. Don’t keep the lady waiting.”

 

“I ain’t never kept a lady waiting, Rogers, ‘n I’m not about to start now,” Bucky drawls. He slides off Steve and onto the mattress, and immediately misses the warmth of the other man beneath him. It seems like Steve feels the same way, because he lets out a soft noise and raises his head a bit. Bucky leans down, hoping he’s reading the signals right, and presses a kiss to Steve’s swollen lips. Steve immediately surges up into the kiss, knocking Bucky over onto his back.

 

“Oh, my,” Peggy murmurs from her place on the bed.

 

Steve rips away from Bucky and looks at her, aghast. “I’m sorry, Peg, I just-”

 

“No,” she says consideringly, eyes flicking back and forth between where Bucky is laying on the bed and Steve is kneeling. Peggy pulls her lip between her teeth before her smile broadens. “Don’t apologize, Steve. Keep going. I’ll let you know when to stop.”

 

Steve waits for her to nod encouragingly before turning to look back at Bucky sprawled on the bed beneath him. Bucky looks hazy and lust-drunk in a way he never did after any of his dates back home, even the ones that ended with Steve trying to sleep with a pillow over his good ear. Bucky raises a challenging eyebrow that Steve returns, along with the shit eating grin that got him into so much trouble back home. Somewhere off to the side, Steve hears Peggy scoff, and that propels him into action. He rushes forward, swinging a thigh over Bucky’s hips so he’s straddling the other man, before dropping his weight down and pressing their groins together.

 

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” Bucky groans, laughing. “Still got nothin’ to prove, huh?” He lifts his hands from the rumpled sheets to grip at Steve’s narrow hips, rubbing his thumbs over the ridge of bone beneath the thin skin. Steve rocks forward into his grip, slightly, and their clothed erections brush past each other, causing their breaths to stutter in their chests. Emboldened, Bucky dips his fingers below the elastic of Steve’s shorts, pushing them down and squeezing gently. 

 

“Gimme more, Buck.” Steve falls forward, caging Bucky in with his arms. He brushes their noses together, and the air grows humid between them with their panted breaths. “Please,” Steve’s voice is barely a whisper now, and they’re so close together that his lips brush Bucky’s when he speaks. “I want you, Buck,” he sighs, and that does it.

 

Bucky picks his head up that last fraction of an inch as he yanks Steve’s hips into his own, causing both men to grunt roughly. Distantly, Bucky registers hearing a soft feminine sigh from Peggy, but she is not his focus right now. The moment their lips meet, the kiss is dirty and open mouthed. This isn’t the chaste, exploratory kiss of before, of lovers meeting for the first time. This is carnal want, and need, and raw emotion laid bare in every stroke of the tongue and sharp scrape of teeth.

 

When their cocks line up just right, Steve and Bucky freeze for just a moment, their lips coming apart, and they breathe. Everyone in the room is paused on an inhale, because this, this is perfection. Bucky knows as sure as anything that this is what he should have been doing all along. Steve’s huge chest rumbles as he groans, “please,” and hitches his hips forward again, and well. How can he resist? 

 

Working faster now, Bucky wrestles off Steve’s shorts, and is about to reach for his own when he stops and just looks. Steve is absolutely debauched. His usually coiffed blonde hair is flopping in his fever-bright eyes. Pale Irish skin is flushed from the tops of his cheekbones down to his dusky pink nipples, which are pulled tight into perfect peaks that Bucky desperately wants to bite. The shadow of fine blonde chest hair spreads across Steve’s massive pecs and down the center of his ridged abdomen, and Bucky wants to follow the lines with his tongue. And then, he realizes, he can. Clambering up onto his knees, he pushes at Steve’s shoulder until he gets the hint and falls back next to Peggy with an, “oof.”

 

Bucky’s cock is throbbing and leaking within its cotton confines, but how can he be expected to pay attention to it when he has Steve spread out before him like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Permission to continue, ma’am?” Bucky asks, barely able to spare a glance over to Agent Carter.

 

“Granted, Sergeant. Carry on. But don’t let him come. I have plans for him. And you.” Peggy pats Steve’s cheek without breaking eye contact with Bucky. When he nods in acknowledgement, she pulls her hand away from Steve and places one on her breast, and one low on her abdomen, both thumbs gently sweeping back and forth.

 

Now that he’s received the go-ahead, Bucky falls forward and laves his tongue over each of Steve’s nipples, earning him a full-body shudder before giving them a parting bite. Smiling beatifically at Steve, Bucky lowers his head and drags his tongue down the line of muscle that bisects Steve’s abdomen, not stopping until he reaches his bellybutton. Bucky pauses there, and does his best to suck marks into the tender skin, to leave a mark on Steve in some tangible way. He tries not to let it hurt when he sees how quickly the bruises fade.

 

This far down, Bucky can feel the heat radiating from Steve’s groin, and when he glances down, he sees Steve’s cock, thick and dark red with blood, and shining at the tip with precome. There’s even a small, smeared puddle of it low on Steve’s abdomen, and as Bucky watches, another bead wells from the slit at the head of Steve’s cock and drips down, a single shining thread staying connected almost until the end.

 

“Christ almighty,” Bucky groans, and swipes his fingers through the precome shining on Steve’s skin before wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. He hears the beginning of Steve’s groan before it’s abruptly cut off, and when he glances up he sees that Peggy has her tits pressed to Steve’s face, and he is licking and sucking at them like he’s starving for them. Satisfied that Steve is occupied, Bucky returns his gaze to the cock held firmly in his hand. He gives Steve a couple of long, slow pumps just to hear the noises he makes, all the while glancing up at Peggy and Steve.

 

Peggy must feel his eyes on her, and when she raises a quizzical eyebrow, Bucky drops his mouth open and sticks his tongue out slightly. She nods at him and straddles Steve’s chest, effectively blocking his view for the time being.

 

Bucky chuckles to himself and rubs his thumb around the crown of Steve’s cock on the next stroke. Steve’s hips shudder a little bit, but the noises that he makes are muffled by the suckling sounds of his mouth against Peggy’s tits. 

 

For a brief moment Bucky considers teasing Steve, dragging his tongue up the shaft the same way he dragged it down his abdomen, maybe flicking it at the tip like Steve had done to Peggy’s clit. But only for a brief moment, because what Bucky really wants is to make Steve come undone. So on his next downstroke, he opens wide and follows his hand with his mouth. The moment the saltbitter taste of Steve hits Bucky’s tongue, a groan rumbles up from deep within him, and he pushes to take more of Steve into his mouth. 

 

Steve, for his part, wrenches his mouth away from Peggy with an inhale so sharp it sounds like a scream before he grinds out, “God,  _ Bucky _ , fuck.” It takes every ounce of control he has to not thrust up into Bucky’s mouth, into the heat and the wet of it. And just knowing that it’s  _ Bucky _ , who he has wanted for so long, makes it almost more than Steve can bear.

 

Once again the room is filled with nothing more than the wet sounds of sex and sucking, and soft sighs and stuttered breaths. Surprisingly, Bucky is the most vocal of the three of them, moaning desperately with every bob of his head, trying to take more of Steve every time. He slides his hands around to hold on to the perfect cheeks of Steve’s ass, and Steve thrusts a little when Bucky’s thumb brushes back behind his balls. At that, Bucky groans even louder, and forces his head down even further.

 

“Oh, you hear that, darling?” Peggy purrs. “He wants it. He wants you to use that sinful mouth of his. Go on, then, Steve.” Her breath hitches for a moment as Steve gives a particularly hard suck on one of her nipples. “Give your Bucky what he wants.”

 

None of them would honestly be able to say who moaned louder, but Bucky simply dropped his jaw loose and continued to stroke behind Steve’s balls, and Steve finally began to loosen up on his iron restraint. He started slow, and then, much like a train, began building up speed until he was pistoning in and out of Bucky’s mouth, bumping the back of his throat with every thrust, a little “unh, unh” noise falling from his mouth as steady as a metronome. 

 

Emboldened, Bucky moves his fingers further in, caressing and exploring the crack of Steve’s ass until he finds Steve’s hole. When he gently brushes his finger against it, Steve gives a surprised, “oh,” before grinding back harder. He can’t seem to decide whether he wants to drive his cock further into Bucky’s mouth or back onto his finger more, and is quickly becoming an overwhelmed livewire of sensation. His movements and sounds are getting more and more desperate, and he feels something great looming on the horizon until--

 

“Enough!” Peggy barks. Immediately Bucky withdraws his fingers and pulls of Steve’s cock with a “pop” before sitting back and resting on his heels. Steve mostly wants to cry. When Peggy gracefully slides off Steve’s chest, acting like her tits weren’t mottled red and purple with love bites and stubble burn, they get their first glimpse of Bucky’s face.

 

He looks absolutely wrecked. Bucky’s eyes are completely glazed over with lust, and he’s got a dazed smile on his face. Tears have left shining tracks down his cheeks, and his normally pouty lips are now flushed red and swollen. Even though he lacks the same fair Irish complexion that Steve has, color is still riding high on his sharp cheekbones, and Steve thinks it makes him look like a renaissance painting.

 

“James, darling,” sighs Peggy, patting the mattress next to her. “You’ve done so well for me. Come up here, and I’ll give you your reward, alright?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky’s voice, already raspy from lust, is now outright gravelly after sucking Steve’s cock.

 

“Steven, on your knees, please. James, you too. On either side of me, if you please.” As the men arrange themselves on either side of her, Peggy adjusts the pillows to support her in a semi-reclined position. “James, dearheart, you can take those off, now,” she says, gesturing to his soaked-through shorts. He nods absently and removes them before taking his place beside her, while Steve is on the other. “Good, good. There are my good boys. James, I’m going to take care of this. Steven, you take care of James.”

 

They don’t need telling twice. After not being able to kiss for some time, the two men move like they are completely starved for each other. Steve whimpers at the saltbitter taste of himself on Bucky’s tongue, and Bucky returns the sound in kind just for the sheer joy of kissing Steve. Peggy watches them for a moment, watches the way their hands reach up to caress each others’ faces and hair, before she grabs ahold of Bucky’s cock.

 

It’s not quite as thick as Steve’s though certainly more than most men could hope to hide away in their trousers. Like Steve’s, it has also been getting wetter as time has gone on, and Bucky is now practically crying in relief at the feeling of Carter’s small hands working up and down the shaft. After a few strokes, Bucky pulls his mouth away from Steve’s to look up at the ceiling and just  _ breathe _ . Steve uses this opportunity to begin pressing kisses down Bucky’s neck, looking for all the spots that make his toes curl. Peggy uses this opportunity to swirl her thumb around the tip, smearing the wetness she found there for an easier glide. Bucky knows his breath stuttered in when she did that, but he doesn’t want to give her any more satisfaction than he already does, so he refuses to make eye contact.

 

That suits Peggy just fine. God saw fit to give her two hands, after all. Her other hand comes up and she gently begins rolling and stroking his balls in time with her other hand, and Bucky knows that it won’t be long.

 

“Peg,” he grinds out. “‘M not gonna last. Been on edge too long, watchin’ you. ‘M gonna come.” Bucky is gritting his teeth, trying to hold back his orgasm, but he can’t help shuddering when Steve sucks an earlobe into his mouth.

 

“Yes, well. That is the point. You may come whenever you’re ready, Sergeant, so long as your Captain is watching, too.” Bucky can hear the challenge in her voice, but oh, God, he wants to come so bad.

 

“Steve, doll, please, I gotta come.” Bucky’s begging, he knows he is, and he almost wants to cry with relief when he feels Steve nod against his neck.

 

“Okay, Buck. Okay. Whenever you’re ready. Let go. I want it. I want to see you.” 

 

Bucky tries to lock eyes with Steve, and he does, right up until his eyes start to roll back and flutter shut. “Oh, oh, oh God, oh, Ste-Peg-I’m-” His words cut off with a shout, and as he opens his eyes, he looks down to see Peggy Carter aiming his ejaculating cock at her chest, her head thrown back in ecstacy. Pearly white come stripes across her tits and down the valley in between them, with a few stray drops landing on her chin, collarbones, and further down on her pink-brown nipples.

 

A bigger hand encircles his cock, milking the last drops of come out, and Bucky watches as Steve swipes his thumb over the slit to gather what’s left. They gaze at each other for a moment, and then Steve winks and draws his thumb into his mouth, sucking Bucky’s come off like it’s remnants of dessert.

 

It’s too much for Bucky, and he falls back to the mattress, completely drained but still riding the high of the orgasm as he sees Steve close his eyes in bliss for a brief moment. He takes a moment and then makes to get up, about to look for something to clean up Peggy, before she places a hand on his arm.

 

“What do you think you’re doing, Sergeant?” Her voice has gone decidedly cool, much frostier than he has heard it for a long time, and Bucky finally sees a bit more of that steel that the others have talked about. 

 

“Nowhere, ma’am. Just wanted to get you cleaned up,” Bucky replies, torn between being baffled and sheepish.

 

“Oh, no worries. That won’t be necessary. Here, come sit up here, next to me, against the headboard.” Bucky shuffles up next to her, confused, and watches the cooling come slide slowly down her torso. Peggy winks at him before turning her attention to Steve, who has been kneeling in the same spot with his fists clenched so hard his knuckles are white. “Steve? Why don’t we show darling James what we got up to the night before Rebirth.”

 

Bucky slumps back against the pillows, confused, and sees Steve’s jaw drop open in something that looks like awe. “Steve? Peg? I don’t-”

 

“Hush, James, and make room for Steve.” Peggy is kneading at her breasts again, and when her fingers slip through a trail of pearly semen she gasps, “oh! It’s still warm. Quickly, Steve, lay back against James’ chest.”

 

There’s a flurry of movement as Steve rushes to obey, and Bucky finds himself with a lapful of super soldier. As soon as he can, he’s laying kisses up and down Steve’s neck, and smoothing his hands over that sculpted torso before pausing to toy with Steve’s brand-new, enormous pecs.

 

“Thank you, Steve. You listen so well for me,” Peggy says, a cheshire grin pulling the corners of her lips as she crawls toward the men on all fours. When she gets between Steve’s knees she lowers herself down until his cock is nestled in the tight space between her breasts.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky swears. He thinks Steve may have said something similar, but he can’t really hear anything beyond the rushing in his ears as he watches Steve thrust his cock up and sees the head poke out from between Peggy’s tits. The tip of his cock, flushed dark with arousal, is smeared with white.  _ With Bucky’s come _ , he realizes with a jolt. Peggy lubed her tits up with Bucky’s come so that Steve could fuck them.

 

Steve whines, a high, broken thing caught somewhere in his throat, and Bucky wonders if he just came to the same epiphany. His thrusts pick up speed, and even Peggy is softly sighing and moaning as she ruts against the bed to the lurid squelching sound Steve’s cock is making. It’s obscene. It is the absolute filthiest thing Bucky has ever seen in his life, and he absolutely could not have ever dreamed of such a thing. It’s also the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Peggy, sweetheart, oh you’re so beautiful,” Steve is breathing harder now, and he’s thrusting so fast that the precome from his own cock is splattering across his stomach. “Shit, shit, oh,  _ God, _ oh…”

 

Bucky feels his cock twitch against Steve’s back feebly. He  _ wants _ to be ready to go again, but he still feels completely drained. That doesn’t mean that he can’t help Steve, especially when he hears Carter give a needy, “uh-huh,” and sees her dip her chin down and stick her tongue out to try and lick Steve’s cock each time it peeks out from between her filthy tits. His mind made up, Bucky reaches one hand up from where it had been absently playing with one of Steve’s newly-sensitive nipples, and strokes two fingers over that kiss-bitten bottom lip. Steve makes a noise like he’s dying and darts his tongue out to lick Bucky’s fingers before diving forward to suck them into his mouth. 

 

“Yeah, Stevie, there you go, sugar. Is that what you needed? Did you need somethin’ in your mouth?” Bucky decides that since Steve and Peggy’s mouths are otherwise occupied in some capacity, it’s really up to him to fill the relative silence with chatter. 

 

“Mhm,” comes Steve’s muffled reply, and he drops his head back onto Bucky’s shoulder, extending the long column of his throat to Bucky’s full view. Bucky feels the sweat that’s soaking Steve’s hairline, sees the darker blond strands out of the corner of his eye, but he is transfixed by the stretch of pale skin in front of him. “More,” Steve begs, garbled, breaking Bucky from his reverie.

 

“More? Oh, Steve, baby, is your mouth not full enough? Do you need another?” Even Peggy moans, and Bucky sees her throw a knee over Steve’s shin so that she can straddle it and begin to grind against it in time with the cock still slipping between her tits. Bucky can’t believe how wet Steve has gotten; it must be a side effect of the serum. Peggy looks like she has been covered in oil like a girl at the pool or someone in a strongman competition, except far more pornographic. Steve looks much the same, with his fair Irish skin flushing pink down past his nipples as he continues to exert himself. “I’ve got an idea, Stevie, but you’ll have to slow down, just for a minute. Can you do that for me, doll?”

 

Steve’s hips stutter for a second, then he nods and begins a new, slower pace with longer, fuller thrusts. At the peak of each one, when his hips are lifted clear off the bed, Peggy is able to dip her head enough to leave a sucking kiss at the head of Steve’s cock, flicking her tongue into the slit and licking up the drops of precome she finds there. She, too, slows her pace, grinding longer and harder against Steve’s shin, and distantly he can feel the trail of slickness she leaves behind. 

 

“Trust me, Steve,” Bucky whispers, just low enough for only Steve to hear, and he pulls his fingers free from the hot, wet mouth they’ve been encased in.

 

“No, Buck, I need ‘em-”

 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Bucky croons, quickly giving Steve his other hand. Steve doesn’t waste any time before diving down and sucking three fingers back into his mouth, sighing contentedly.

Careful not to touch anything so as to not accidentally wipe them off, Bucky lowers his spit soaked fingers down toward the mattress. When Steve lifts his hips on the next thrust, he snakes his hand underneath, so that when Steve comes back down, Bucky’s fingers slip against that tight hole.

 

Sharp teeth clamp down on Bucky’s finger and Steve nearly screams. Peggy must figure out what happened, because she lets loose a moan that turns into a laugh. Pulling back a little bit from Steve’s thick cock, a gossamer strand of spit and precome connecting her lips to the slit, she smiles at Bucky. “Well, Sergeant Barnes,” she says, a new rasp in her voice. Her words are a little shaky, and Bucky sees that, like Steve, Carter still hasn’t stopped the movement of her hips. “Shall we give him his reward?”

 

Bucky presses his middle finger a little harder against Steve’s hole until the tip of his finger has sunken in up to the first knuckle. Steve is so hot and tight inside that Bucky’s eyes roll back into his head for a moment and his cock gives another valiant twitch, and thickens just the slightest bit. “Yeah, Carter,” he says, laying a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Steve’s neck. “Let’s give our boy what he needs.”

 

“Hmm,” Peggy sighs, flicking her tongue out to taste Steve once more. “Let’s let him  _ take _ what he needs.” She and Bucky give each other matching smiles, and she winks at him before pressing her tits together even tighter and letting saliva drip out of her mouth into her cleavage, slicking the way for Steve’s cock even more. 

Bucky presses a tender kiss to Steve’s sweaty temple. “Y’hear that, baby? Take what you need. We gotcha. Let go.” He drops his head forward onto Steve’s shoulder and breathes in the scent of him. 

 

Whining once more, Steve sucks Bucky’s fingers down as far as he can, till he’s nearly gagging on them, and then his hips begin to  _ move _ . He’s thrusting forward toward Peggy’s mouth, which she has left hanging open, drool dripping down and tongue hanging out, making an absolute mess of her tits and Steve’s cock. When he rocks his hips back, its with a little roll at the end, to try and get Bucky’s finger a little deeper each time.

 

Steve is whining with every exhale, and Bucky is muttering encouragements nonstop in a low rumble as the thrusts continue to pick up speed. The fingers in Steve’s ass continue to sink deeper, and Bucky’s middle finger is up to the second knuckle when he adds his index finger, stretching Steve just a little wider.  

 

Cold air rushes over his other hand as Steve’s mouth drops open on a groan as he thrusts back, hard, desperate to take both fingers into his body. Bucky presses down on Steve’s tongue with the three fingers in his mouth, asking, “Are you done with these, then?”

 

“Nnh-nn,” Steve cries, latching on once more. He sucks with renewed vigor, and Bucky wishes it was his cock, which has been steadily plumping up against Steve’s back. This isn’t about him, though, and he’ll continue to ignore it, at least until Steve gets his.

 

A high pitched squeal pierces through the sex-fog in Bucky’s head, and he looks down to see Steve’s hands cradling Carters head, sifting her hair through his thick fingers. Her brows are pinched tightly together, and she looks like she’s close to coming again, judging by the increasing desperation in the way her hips are rocking against Steve’s leg.

 

Bucky hooks his fingers where they’re pulsing in and out of Steve’s body, until they hit something that makes Steve  _ scream _ . He wrenches his head away from Bucky’s fingers so he can talk, and begins to babble, “oh, fuck, Bucky, right there, don’t stop.”

 

“Feelin’ good, Stevie?” Bucky purrs, smacking another kiss against Steve’s cheek before drawing an earlobe into his mouth and biting it gently.

 

“Yes, fuck you, Barnes. Hah. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-” Steve cuts off suddenly, mouth dropping open wide and his back arching into a perfect curve as his cock begins to pulse and streams of come begin to splash across Peggy’s face, neck, and tits.

 

This immediately sets her off, and her screams echo with Steve’s, the room filled with wordless grunts and gasps, and curses and names. All the while, Steve continues to pump out more and more come, and Peggy leans back so it can cover more of her torso, trailing all the way down, dripping toward her belly button. Bucky thinks he might die. Steve’s cock is still twitching, and he’s still moaning and thrusting up into nothing, so Bucky takes the hand that hand been in Steve’s mouth and wraps it around Steve’s cock. Steve makes a sound in relief that could be a sob, and slumps back into Bucky’s grip as he pulls firmly at Steve’s cock, milking the last few drops of come from him and spreading them around with his thumb.

 

When Steve has stopped rutting into Bucky’s hands, he gently removes them from his lover’s body, shushing him when he whimpers his complaints. “It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky soothes. “Just lay back, sweetheart. You’ve done so, so well.” 

 

The smile that Bucky receives in return is brighter than the sun. He takes a moment to let his gaze roam over Steve, and he notes with interest that, despite the bone shaking orgasm, Steve’s cock is still hard. For now, though, he bypasses it, and leans forward to give Steve a sweet kiss that only hints at more. 

 

From behind them, Bucky hears the sigh of Agent Carter catching her breath.  When he turns to look, he sees her trembling, not with cold, but with oversensitivity, as she trails her fingers across her navel and through the stray drops of semen that had landed there. She looks, for the moment, completely sated. But seeing her there, coated in Steve’s spend, sets the fire of arousal roaring in Bucky’s belly once again. His half hard cock, which he had been content to ignore, begins steadily filling again as he lurches forward and bats Peggy’s hand away before replacing it with his tongue. Saltbitter and musky, Steve’s taste blooms over Bucky’s palate, and he finds himself ravenous as he cleans her as best as he can.

 

Bucky doesn’t even realize the sounds he’s making until he’s up near Peggy’s face and he can finally hear her gasps in his ear, and even then he can’t stop, he just licks his way over to her slack mouth. It’s only a mere moment later that a heavy weight settles atop him and a voice that had been to big for its body before rumbles, “Slow down, Buck. I can do this all day.”


	3. Thor

Steve leans back, just barely dodging Thor’s meaty fist and letting out a soft huff of laughter as he feels the displaced air breeze past his face. “Is that all you’ve got?” He taunts as he turns to circle his opponent once more.

 

Thor turns his head to look at Steve, sweaty hair whipping across his face and sticking to his forehead and neck.His cocksure grin is blinding, and Steve ignores the lurch in his belly at the sight. “Hardly, Steven. But even a Midgardian with your skill is no match for the might of Asgard.”

 

“Well, that sounds like a challenge, then. Show me the might of Asgard, _ your highness. _ ” Steve barely has time to blink before Thor is on him, and then they are trading blows faster than an unenhanced human’s eyes could track. 

 

Dull slaps and thuds echo through the gym as strike after strike lands. Both men are grinning, even as their breathing gets heavier, and small grunts begin escaping as hits land. The longer they spar, the more sweat begins to pour across their bodies. Their workout shirts cling to them, darker across the chest and back and under their arms. Soon, the blows aren’t landing so much as slipping, and that’s when Thor knows it’s time to bring Steve to the mat.

 

He lets Steve land a blow to his ribs before grabbing his arm and sweeping his leg. There’s a brief tussle, and then Thor is sitting astride Steve’s hips, pinning his arms above his head. “Do you yield, Captain?” His chest is heaving and the braids at his temples are coming unraveled and are darkened to the same deep gold as the scruff covering his chin. Thor is grinning again, open mouthed as he pants for air, massive chest heaving like the bellows of a mighty forge. 

 

Steve twitches his hips up, and again to the sides, and ignores the jolts of pleasure that shoot from his thickening cock down to his toes. He relaxes against the mat and squints up at Thor as a bead of sweat travels from the end of his eyebrow toward his ear before getting soaked up by his sideburns. “Never.” He attempts to struggle again, and accidentally-on-purpose hitches his hips up to push his cock into Thor’s sculpted ass.

 

Raising an eyebrow and closing his mouth into a full-lipped smirk, Thor relaxes his thighs where they were gripping Steve and rests more of his weight in the cradle of Steve’s pelvis, grinding back slightly. His fingers loosen slightly, and his thumbs begin tracing gentle lines back and forth across the taut tendons of Steve’s inner wrists. “Do you yield now?”

 

Steve hums under his breath and relaxes further into the floor. He feels Thor leaning closer, feels his breath washing across his cheek as he leans toward his ear, and Steve smiles. He picks his head up off the floor, brushing his cheek across Thor’s until his lips are almost brushing the other man’s ear. “Never.”

For all that Steve is made of muscle and might and righteous fury, nearly everyone alive seems to forget that he was only born with one of those qualities. He has always fought, but he did not learn to fight as a large man. He learned to fight as a small one, and how to use everything to his advantage to win. He learned to fight dirty. He learned to fight from Peggy. 

 

So Thor is completely caught off guard when this man who is nearly of the same size as he is bucks him off before slithering like an eel (like Loki, his mind whispers), out of his grip. In a move strangely reminiscent of the Black Widow, Steve wraps his legs around Thor’s neck and shoulders, flipping him over and pinning him to the mat. Steve’s knees are grinding into Thor’s forearms, and his shins are laying across Thor’s straining biceps. 

 

When Steve is satisfied that he has his legs securely anchored, he drops his weight onto Thor’s upper chest, settling his ass into the valley between his massive pecs. Steve feels more than hears Thor make a sound; feels the deep rumble of it in his legs and his balls and his ass. He gazes down his body, notices the growing swell of his cock, thinks about how he could feed it right into Thor’s plush mouth if he pulled his shorts down just a little. He rolls his hips forward just a little, just enough to feel the ridge of Thor’s collar bones before Steve leans down to whisper in Thor’s ear, “Do you yield?”

 

This time, when Thor makes a sound, Steve hears the groan. In a burst of strength, he wrenches his arms free, but rather than continuing to fight, he wraps his impossibly large hands around Steve’s impossibly small waist and pulls him closer to his face. Thor rubs his nose into Steve’s inner thigh, scraping his teeth over the tightly flexed hamstring and inhaling deeply. 

 

Steve drops his head back with a sigh and grinds forward into the hot, humid air and Thor’s questing mouth. It’s been far too long since he’s been able to enjoy this feeling with another person. He’s jerked off, sure. He’s not a monk, and between Tony, Clint, and, rather surprisingly (or, perhaps, unsurprisingly), Natasha, Steve has become somewhat of a connoisseur of internet porn. But he hasn’t felt the touch of another person since… Well. Since before the ice. At least, not this kind of touch; nothing more than a friendly clap on the shoulder. And for it to be Thor? Someone who he doesn’t have to hold back with? Someone who won’t judge him, who won’t think twice about being with another man. It’s a greater gift than anyone could know. 

 

Thor drops his head back to the mat with a thud, open mouth grin back in place. “You are full of tricks, Captain, though I hope you wouldn’t use this on enemies of the Avengers.”

 

“Ha, no,” Steve laughs. “I’ll save that for,” he grinds forward again, “special people.”

 

“Hmm,” Thor hums. “I’m glad to be counted among them. However, I would request that we continue this in more...luxurious...accommodations.” 

 

Steve reaches up and runs a hand through Thor’s sweaty hair before making a fist. “That can be arranged.”

+++++

The door has barely shut behind them before Steve has Thor shoved against it, his forearm braced across the Asgardian’s broad chest. Thor’s head drops back against the door with a dull-sounding thunk that is quickly drowned out by the groaning laugh that bubbles up from the pit of his stomach. Pressing his chest against Thor’s, and hiding his grin in his sweaty neck, Steve tries to crush himself closer to feel each rumble of sound.

 

“How’s this for luxury, your highness? Does it meet your, uh.” Steve grinds his heavy cock into Thor’s thigh and tries to hold back a giggle. “...Specifications?” He ends his cheeky question with a loud, sucking kiss punctuated by a bite right over Thor’s Adam’s apple. 

 

Thor reaches his hands forward to grab Steve’s ass and pull him harder into his leg. “I’m not yet certain, Captain. Though if you feel inclined to continue the tour…” 

 

They never make it all the way to Steve’s Tower bedroom. They don’t even manage to get completely undressed. Their shirts disappear somewhere near the kitchen; Thor’s on the floor and Steve’s on a now-overturned lamp. 

 

“Ah, Steven, gods. I-- _ ngh _ -” with an almighty groan, Thor comes in his shorts for the second time that evening. Steve works him through the orgasm, biting at his jaw and whispering filthy things in his ear while continuing to milk every last drop out of Thor’s still-hard cock. He doesn’t stop until Thor’s hips start making erratic twitches, and the whimpers wheezing their way out of Thor are bordering on pained more than pleasured. Thor pulls back to stare at Steve dazedly once the other man’s hand has stopped working over his cock. 

 

Steve, for his part, looks like the cat that got the cream. Without breaking eye contact with Thor, he pulls his hand free and brings it to his mouth as if to lick it clean. His laugh at Thor’s gobsmacked expression is cut short when the god’s gaze turns predatory and Steve is yanked close enough for the men to meet in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. It’s only as an afterthought that Steve drops his hand from near his face where it had been caught in the kiss, making the whole thing taste of  _ Thor. _

 

Panting, Thor pulls back to look at Steve. His hair is disheveled, damp blond strands falling around his face  and sticking to his neck. Steve’s saliva and Thor’s own come make his abused lips shine like glass, and they curl into a smirk worthy of his mischief-making brother when he rumbles at Steve, “Well, friend, I do think I owe you one, if you think you can continue?”

 

He really means to sound intimidating, or at the very least confident. But when Steve settles his weight and squares his shoulders, intending to give some smart ass remark, Thor grabs him and lifts him off the floor, hooking his elbows under Steve’s knees. 

“I believe I asked if you can continue, Steven?” Thor knows exactly what he’s doing, the bastard. Steve can barely think, he’s so turned on, and he can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by the growing wet spot at the front of his shorts. 

 

“What, was this,” Steve rolls his hips up toward Thor’s face, nearly bumping his chin with the fabric tented by his straining cock. “Not enough of a hint? I’m more than ready to continue.”

 

“Hmm,” Thor hums, nuzzling into Steve’s groin and making him groan. “I suppose that’s fair. But see, my hands are down here,” Thor digs his fingers into the muscles of Steve’s ass for emphasis. “And you are still clothed. So, it appears we have a problem, Captain.”

Steve groans again at the sensation before sinking his fingers into Thor’s hair to force him to make eye contact. “Well,” Steve says in his best Captain America voice, “It’s a good thing that I’m one of the best tactical minds of the century.” With a conspiratorial wink, he removes his hand from Thor’s hair and proceeds to rip his shorts clean off his body, the sounds of of popping threads like applause to his ingenuity. “Satisfied?”

 

Transfixed by the hard cock bobbing in front of his face, Thor mumbles, “Immensely,” before turning his head to press kisses to Steve’s knee. For a minute they just rest there together, breathing quietly as the tension continues to build like static.

 

Eventually Steve settles into Thor’s hold, and his cock nudges against the god’s sternum, in the valley between his pecs. When his breath is punched out of him with a weak, “oh,” and his hips rut forward again, Steve immediately crushes his eyes shut and his face burns with something like shame.

 

“Look at you,” Thor breathes. Steve feels muscles shift below him, and Thor uses the grip he has to force Steve into another slow, deliberate thrust. “You like this, Steven? Is this what you want?”

 

His eyes are still closed tight, but Steve’s breath is coming harder and his face is burning with shame and arousal. Thor squeezes his ass again, prompting yet another thrust. “Yeah, fuck, yes, I like it, okay?”

 

“Good,  _ good,  _ Steve.” Thor laughs, open-mouthed and beautiful. “Let yourself have this.” He forces another thrust. “Let.  _ Go.” _

 

And so Steve does. Over and over, he keeps thrusting into Thor’s chest as Thor holds him aloft. With each movement of Steve’s hips, Thor flexes his arms, pressing his pecs closer together. Soon, sweat and pre-come slicks the way, and the filthy sounds of their movement echo slightly in the barren hallway.

 

“Oh, fuck, Thor,” Steve groans. “Shit, y’gotta. ‘M gonna.” He’s barely pulling back in his thrusts now; he’s got one hand fisted in Thor’s hair again and the other pressed against the top of his cock, making sure it’s surrounded on all sides by hot, hard flesh. 

 

“Do it, Steven. Show it to me. Show me your spend, let me have it as you had mine.” Thor is rutting uselessly against the air below Steve now, and his whole torso is undulating with the movement. 

 

Steve nods furiously, and grinds frantically, high pitched “ah ah ah” noises escaping from his open mouth with each exhale until every muscle locks up and he goes completely silent. Ropes of come stripe across Thor’s massive chest, pearly white against golden tan skin and honey blond hair. 

 

When Steve comes down from his orgasm, he looks at the sight below him, and for the first time since waking from the ice, he aches for the calluses of a pencil in his hand instead of his shield.

 


	4. Maria

With Maria, it happens at a party. A rare moment of revelry amongst the Avengers and company, before the world comes crashing down around them again.  She’s wearing a red dress, and Steve does a double take, because he’s fairly certain he’s never seen her in anything outside a power suit or SHIELD issued tactical gear. When she sees him looking from across the room, she tilts the neck of her beer in his direction, eyebrows raised. Steve laughs self-deprecatingly before raising his glass of Asgardian hooch in a toast.

 

When Steve turns his attention back to his fellow WWII vets he’d been chatting with, they’re staring at him with raised eyebrows and mouths agape. The one named Stan looks at Steve over his glasses, and says with all the seriousness he can muster, “What the hell are you doing wasting time with old farts like us, son? Don’t keep a dame like that waiting!”

 

Steve’s protest of, “We don’t call them ‘dames’ anymore, Stan,” goes ignored by the jeers and jibes of the others until, “Alright, alright! I’m goin’, I’m goin’, shut your yaps!” 

 

The cheers of a small group of elderly men, including one surprisingly enthusiastic “excelsior!” from Stan earns them a few looks, including Maria. She grabs another beer from a passing server, and begins heading in their direction. Steve quickly knocks back the rest of his drink, crunching a few ice cubes aggressively between his molars before moving to head her off. 

 

“Captain Rogers.”

 

“Agent Hill.”

 

“I had a briefing with Thor some time ago, and I have some questions that I was hoping you could clarify for me. Do you have a moment to take a walk with me?”

 

“Of course, ma’am. Lead the way.” Steve turns to follow Maria, and he only wobbles a little. Really, just a little.

 

+++++

 

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to be pulled into a coat closet in a corridor that was barely out of a normal human’s hearing range of the party. 

 

“Captain Rogers, I believe I mentioned that I had a briefing with Thor of Asgard?” Maria is standing with her arms crossed over her chest, and her expression is carefully neutral. She looks, for all intents and purposes, like the high-caliber SHIELD agent that she is, day after day, only clad in a cocktail dress and heels, and with a flush running high on her cheekbones and fever-bright eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve suddenly feels like he might have an idea where this is going, and he isn’t sure whether the tight feeling in his stomach is dread or excitement. “I believe you also mentioned that you needed me to clarify things for you?”

 

Maria’s expression breaks into a devilish smirk that would give even Natasha pause. “Something like that. I need your help, ah, filling in the blanks, as it were.” She kicks off her heels, smooths her hair back, and then with a wink, sinks gracefully to her knees. 

 

Steve practically swallows his tongue. “Agent-Maria, uh. I, hah.” The alcohol is definitely swimming in his brain, and for just a moment, it’s not Maria, but Peggy who is on her knees before him in a red dress with her dark, dark hair. But then he blinks, and he comes back to himself, and it’s 2015, and he ignores the pang in his chest and focuses on the hands deftly undoing his pants to free his thickening cock.

 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Maria says breathlessly, as she strokes Steve through the opening in his pants, “so unfortunately we can’t be as thorough in our discussion as I’d like to be.” She releases him and leans back, shimmying her dress down far enough to expose her breasts. This has the side effect, though, of pressing them together so tightly that there is no space between them, and her arms are pinned to her sides. 

 

Steve says nothing, and leans against the door, panting, and wondering when this became his life. He would offer to help, but he gets the feeling that he is not the one calling the shots here, not even a little. Not that he minds. And even if he could  _ offer _ , he’s not sure what he could, well.  _ Do. _

 

Finally, Maria wriggles one arm free of the dress, leaving her half in, half out, but with much more freedom of movement, and still a considerable amount of cleavage. Once she is satisfied, she looks back at Steve, wicked grin in place once more, and knee walks toward where he is pressed against the door, until he is pressed to where she has been freed from her dress.

 

+++++

 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you came on my  _ dress _ ,” Maria hisses at Steve as she shoves her arms into his brown leather jacket.

 

“Okay, in my defense,” Steve says, holding up a finger. “I, no,  _ we, _ ” he corrects, waving his finger between the two of them, “are kind of drunk.”

 

“Greatest tactical mind my ass,” Maria grumbles, straightening her hair and checking to make sure that the stains on her dress are covered. 

 

“AND,” Steve continues, “you propositioned  _ me _ , if you’ll recall.” He adjusts himself in his pants, hissing a little with oversensitivity as the head of his cock brushed against damp lace. “God, Maria, how do you  _ wear _ these things?”

 

“Well,  _ Steve _ , I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have some different equipment than you that I don’t have to fit in those. Not quite sure how  _ you _ fit in those, honestly.” She stands still and pulls her breasts up toward her chin, muttering something about “fluffing the girls” before turning to fully face him. “How do I look?”

 

“Like you just got tit-fucked in a closet?”

 

Maria’s jaw drops. “The  _ mouth _ on you, Rogers. No, you ass. Be serious.”

 

“You don’t know the first thing about my mouth, Hill.” Steve crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow challengingly. 

 

“I told you when we started we were pressed for time.” Finally, Maria’s stern facade cracks and she smiles, something bright and real. “Steve, seriously. Do I look okay?”

 

Shaking his head, returning her smile with a fond one of his own, Steve steps forward and places his hands on Maria’s shoulders before kissing her on her forehead. “You look beautiful, Agent Hill.” He steps back and snaps to attention.

 

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Maria casts her gaze around furtively before lowering her voice. “And you remember our deal?”

 

“Of course. You sell me out tonight, I take my jacket back. I sell you out, you’ll tell Tony so he can…”

 

“Run those lacy panties you’re wearing up the proverbial flagpole, yes.”

 

“Or the literal one.”

 

“Or the literal one,” Maria agrees.

 

+++++

 

No one questioned why Maria was wearing Steve’s coat. At least, not out loud.

 

Of course, it’s not like they had a ton of time to ask questions between when they noticed, and when Ultron showed up.

 


	5. Natasha

Steve has stopped being surprised by Nat showing up places uninvited and unexpected. So when he gets to his quiet little home on the grounds of the sprawling Avengers compound in Upstate New York and finds her sitting on his kitchen counter reading Cosmo and eating his last can of Pringles, he barely blinks.

 

“You’re buying me a new can of those,” he says as he shuts the door and tosses the keys on the side table.

 

“‘S not like you can’t afford ‘em,” Natasha calls out indignantly through a spray of crumbs. She looks like a college student, not a deadly assassin, and Steve thinks, not for the first time, that the world would trust her so much more if they knew this is who she really is. Natasha Romanoff is a world-class spy, yes. But she’s also a potato chip thief who makes dumb jokes and uses emoticons (she had been very adamant that Steve learn the difference between emoticons and emojis), and Steve adores her for it.

 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Steve tells her as he reaches into the fridge to grab a bottle of kombucha. For as much as the team likes to give him shit about being an old man stuck in the 1940s mentally, who needs a guide to the future even though it has been years since he’s been defrosted, he’s plenty adept at navigating his way through life. He can make his own decisions and figure things out, and he is just as susceptible to advertising as anyone else. So when he was doing his grocery shopping and saw some of the stuff on the shelves, he figured, essentially, “Why the fuck not.” And really, that’s been Steve’s mentality for most of his life.

 

“I can’t believe you drink that vinegar tea beer shit,” Natasha said, not even trying to hide her disgust as she shoved another stack of chips in her mouth. Half of them crumble to pieces and tumble down the front of her shirt, never making it to her mouth.

 

“Aw, come on, Nat, now you’re just being wasteful.” He holds out his hand, face drawn into what the team has dubbed his _Captain America is Disappointed in You_ expression. They’re not wrong, per se, but it really makes him regret doing those PSAs after getting out of the ice. She rolls her eyes before slapping the can into his grip. He knows, by the sound and the weight, before he ever even glances, that it’s empty. Typical.

 

Nat hops off the counter and begins to saunter toward the living room, picking crumbs out of her bra and munching on them happily as she goes. Steve watches her and sighs, shaking his head. He thinks longingly of the unfinished canvas in his studio, where he’s trying to merge his old life and his new one, and bring the Commandos and the Avengers together. With a final shake of his head and a quiet chuckle, Steve puts the can of Pringles up to his lips and tilts it back, allowing the pile of crumbs in the bottom to slide into his mouth all at once.

 

“So,” Steve says, flopping down next to Natasha on the couch with a groan borne of an age he doesn’t appear to be. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“Mmm?” Nat’s eyes are closed lightly, and when she raises her eyebrows it stretches the translucent skin of her eyelids taut. Blue and purple veins criss cross all over before disappearing under thicker skin, and pale freckles are scattered haphazardly across. Steve’s heart aches in a strange way at getting to see her with her defenses down, and he wishes he had his sketchbook so he could draw the roadmaps on her eyes.

 

“Nat? Are you okay?” He wants to reach out and touch- a reassuring hand on her shoulder, maybe, or knock his knee against hers, like he does with Sam or Clint, but she is so still, and seems so strangely peaceful.

 

“I’m fine, Steve,” she says, softer than he’s heard her. Her voice is scratchy, and sounds thick in her mouth. “‘M just tired. And your place isn’t on base. But it is on base. So it’s…” Her nose scrunches up for a moment like a rabbit’s, but her eyes never open. “It’s nice.”

 

Leaning over the side of the couch, Steve grabs one of his absurdly fluffy throw blankets that Wanda and Pietro gave him for Christmas and wraps it around Nat’s shoulders. “Why don’t you get some rest. Stay as long as you want.”

 

“I’d do that anyway, Rogers,” Natasha mumbles, already listing sideways into the arm of the couch.

 

“You know what, Romanoff,” Steve laughs. He watches her for a moment as her breathing slows and she settles into sleep before he gets up and softly pads down the hall to his studio. She’ll know where to find him.

 

+++++

 

A few hours later, the sun has gone down and Steve has switched on the faux-natural lighting to keep painting. He’s adding a silvery blue ribbon, laced with crimson smoke to the Avengers side when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he gets the feeling he’s being watched. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says without turning.

 

“Mm, something like that,” Nat replies, her voice still a little sleep-rough. “Mind if I come in?”

 

“Not at all.” Steve gestures with his palette. “Mi studio es su studio or whatever.” He hears her snort out a laugh next to him and chances a glance. She’s tying her fiery hair up into a loose knot on top of her head, and he notices absently that she hasn’t shaved her armpits in a few days. It’s so devastatingly _human_ that he aches, yet again, to draw her, not as the Black Widow, as he’s done before, but as _Nat_ , as his friend.

“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly. “And I’m glad,” she falters for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m glad you’re not running from us anymore. And I’m glad you aren’t hiding them.”

 

Steve ducks his head. “Thanks. C’mon. I’ve gotta clean up, keep me company.”

 

+++++

“So,” Nat begins as Steve is setting his last brush down to dry. Her usual mischief is back in her voice, and he knows he’s in for some trouble. “I had a girls’ night with Maria, and Pepper before my last mission.”

 

Steve stills instinctively and immediately curses himself for giving away such an easy tell. “Maria, huh? I knew you and Pep hung out, when did Agent Hill join in?”

 

“Oh, after the Ultron nonsense a couple while back. SHIELD is a bit of a sausage fest, you know?” Nat claps Steve on the back and casts her gaze around the room. “C’mon, let’s go to the living room, the turpentine fumes are giving me a headache.”

 

“I don’t really use- oh FINE,” Steve relents after he sees Natasha leave the room, an unnecessary sway in her hips as she goes. He smacks his damp hands against his paint stained jeans one more time for good measure, and follows her out.

 

When he gets to the living room, Nat is sprawled across the couch like a portrait of Venus herself, and his mouth goes a little bit dry. Steve sits in the armchair by the far end of the sofa, near Nat’s feet, and immediately laces his fingers together and presses his hands between his knees to hide his fidgeting. He knows it won’t work; Nat’s too good for that. But it makes him feel better.

 

“You,” his voice comes out a little more unsteady than he’d like, and Steve clears his throat, wishing he had his kombucha. He pointedly ignores Nat’s raised eyebrow and plows forward. “You said you had a girls’ night? Not real sure why that involves _me_ , Nat, but since you wanna chat…”

 

Natasha’s grin is sharp when she props herself up a little higher on her elbows. “Oh, Steve. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” There’s a few moments of silence while they stare at each other, Nat sizing Steve up, and Steve doing his best impression of a golden retriever puppy. Amazingly, it’s Natasha who gives in, first. “Fine. We decided to do the stereotypical thing and play silly drinking games like truth or dare.”

 

Steve has a feeling he knows where this is going. “Is that right? I can’t say I’m familiar with those games. Not sure they had them back in the 40s, and even if they did-”

 

“Fuck off, Steve,” Nat laughs. “Imagine _my_ surprise when I found out that I was the only one who hadn’t snuck off to do the dirty while at a Stark hosted party!”

 

“Imagine,” Steve mutters as his left knee begins bouncing up and down.

 

“Now Pepper? Of course Pepper’s fucked at one of Tony’s parties. I don’t blame her at all. But Maria?” Natasha sits up fully and oh, Steve is so fucked, because she is loving every second of this. “Well. Pep and I had to know who convinced Agent Hill to sneak off during the one and only party at Stark’s she was able to make it to. You remember the one, right? You were wearing that blue shirt, I think Maria was wearing… was she wearing green? Or purple, maybe?”

 

Steve sighs, knowing that there’s no way he can win. “Red. She was wearing red, Nat.”

 

Natasha claps her hands together loud enough that it echoes throughout the house and points finger guns at Steve. “Red! That’s it. Glad you have an eidetic memory, Steve, thanks.” She ignores his snide, “so do you” to continue with her scheme. “ _Anyway_ , we had to find out more details. Apparently she had been sworn to secrecy, but after a few more cocktails, and the right questions, well. I think we both know who it was, don’t we, Cap?”

 

That rolling feeling in his stomach from The Party that they’re talking about is back, and Steve still isn’t quite sure if it’s excitement or dread, but either way it’s some sort of anxiety and this time there’s no booze to help him. He rolls his head from side to side, tilting his chin toward the ceiling to crack his neck before leveling his gaze at Natasha. “I might have been involved. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, _Widow_ , but I’m a grown-ass-”

 

“I’ll say,” Natasha leers with a wink.

 

“A GROWN-ASS,” Steve continues, trying and failing to fight back a smile, “man, and if I choose to...go make time with someone, I can.”

 

“Make time,” Natasha snorts. “Okay, fine. You’re absolutely correct. You are an adult. And so is she. And if you two were a little sloppy and you had to give up your coat to hide suspicious stains on her dress, well. That was the adult thing to do.” She’s waggling her eyebrows at him like a cartoon character, and Steve throws a pillow from the end of the couch at her. Natasha catches it, of course, and begins cackling, a loud, undignified thing that startles some birds outside the window into flight.

 

This sends Steve into a fit of self-deprecating chuckling as he waits for Nat to calm herself. “Did she tell you about how she swore me to secrecy,” he asks, once she’s settled enough and is hugging the pillow like a stuffed animal.

 

“No,” she says, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him. “Only that she had something on you, but she wouldn’t tell us what. Care to share?” Natasha leans forward, raking her eyes up and down where Steve is now leaning forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging loose between them.

 

“Hm. Maybe…” Steve trails off thoughtfully, meeting Natasha’s bright green gaze. “Nah. Not unless you’re nice. And agree to buy me more Pringles.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

+++++

 

Two hours later they’re back at Steve’s house after a run to a corner store, and now they’re loaded down with bags of Pringles, chocolate milk, wine, and enough other varied snack foods to make a horde of college students ashamed. Natasha was, of course, the brains of the operation, so to speak. She was also, to Steve’s delight, the financier.

 

When they settled in with their snacks, Natasha uncorked her wine and took a drink, forgoing a glass entirely, and gestured at Steve. “Well, go on. Do a shot or two of Thor’s fancy Asgard stuff. We’re not here to get shitfaced, but I’m not drinking alone straight from the bottle, Steven, that’s just _sad._ ”

 

Steve doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t have any mead left, he just goes to his bedroom and grabs the flask from the second drawer of his nightstand, making a mental note to buy more lube as he realizes he doesn’t have a backup bottle when he shuts the drawer.

 

Natasha cheers when he returns, and Steve rolls his eyes as he takes a couple pulls from the flask. “Steve,” Natasha gasps in mock outrage. “We didn’t even get to toast, you asshole.” She can’t maintain the charade for long, though, and simply shrugs and takes a few more gulps from the bottle before setting it aside. “Okay, Steve. I’ve gotta know how.”

 

“How? How what?”

 

“How did you get jizz on Maria’s dress? She didn’t give us a ton of details, honestly. And I’ve gotta know.” She looks so earnest, like a child waiting for a bedtime story, and Steve just…

 

Steve throws his head back and laughs, his right hand coming up to clutch at his chest for a minute until he regains his breath. “Really, Natasha? Come on, now.”

 

“No, seriously. I’ve never bought into the whole ‘Truth, Justice, and the American Virgin’ schtick the way everyone else has. But, Steve. _You came on her dress!_ ”

 

The nod that Steve gives Natasha is solemn. “I did. And it was her fault, for the record. The whole thing was her idea.”

 

“I don’t give a shit whose idea it was,” Nat hisses, waving her hand back and forth in front of her face as if she smells something foul. “How did it happen? Did you aim wrong? Did she spit instead of swallow? Did you go off early? A girl needs details, Steve.”

 

And, wow. Natasha has never seen the look that Steve gives her before. At least, not on his face. She’s endured lustful looks from men her entire life, since long before she knew what lust even was. But seeing it on Steve’s face is something else entirely.

 

“Details, Nat? What kind of details do you want? Are you sure you want to go down this road?” Steve is looking at Nat intently, his eyes never straying from hers, even as she fights to hold his gaze without looking away.

 

Natasha has always thought of blue as a cold color, like ice, or water. Like wintry Russian skies seen through barred windows. But what Natasha sees in Steve’s eyes right now, with the way he’s looking at her, it’s like looking at the hottest part of a flame. She lets the levity slip from her face for a minute, so he knows that she’s taking this seriously when she says, “I’m sure, Steve. Are you?”

 

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and against her will Natasha finds herself watching it, transfixed. “Completely,” Steve says, and Natasha can’t even look away to meet his eyes when he says it because she’s still watching his mouth.

 

Another moment of silence, tension crackling in the air like the moments before Thor arrives, and then Nat smacks Steve in the leg with a pillow and peers up at him through a curtain of hair. “So, Steve. I think you promised details?”

 

Steve realizes all at once that he has the upper hand on Nat. It’s something is rather unfamiliar with, and the feeling is heady. He leans back in his chair, relaxing, and spreads his knees wide. He’s not naive, he knows what he looks like, and he knows how to present his body to make it even more appealing. So when he folds his hands behind his head, he knows it makes his biceps press even tighter against his already straining threadbare tee. When he slouches deeper into the chair he knows when he’s gone so far that his hips tilt up and his mostly-soft cock presses up against the soft fabric of his lounge pants.

 

Judging by the look Nat gives him through narrowed eyes, she knows he has the upper hand, too, but either isn’t sure what it will take to get it back, or she’s content to let him have it. Steve would like to believe it’s the former, but he’s more inclined to believe it’s the latter.

 

“Hmm. Details. Do you want to hear about how Maria lured me away from the party? About how we pretended it was for a briefing?” Steve watched Natasha as she tries to force her breathing to slow down, to deepen, before she forgets herself and it speeds up and shallows again. She shakes her head, though, and she chews on her lower lip and gestures for Steve to continue. “What about how we never kissed? How she pulled me into a coat closet and dropped to her knees?”

 

“Steve,” Nat says, and it almost sounds like a warning. Her already smoky voice has gained a new rasp, and a sweet red flush is bordering her hairline.

 

“Yes, Nat?” Steve asks, syrupy sweet. He knows that he is flushed, too, that it’s gone down his neck and is spreading across his chest. “Did you need something?” He shifts his weight, angling his hips towards Nat just enough that she can see where the swell of his cock has grown.

 

“You fucker. I hate you.”

 

“You love me. Shall I keep going?” Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when Natasha gestures broadly in the universal symbol for “go on,” with an exasperated expression on her face. “Thank you. Where was I? Ah. Right. How she dropped to her knees, and pulled out my cock? Didn’t even pull off my pants, you know that? Just opened up my pants enough to pull me out.”

 

It’s also become apparent to Steve that he might be in over his head, and might be more into this than he expected, because it is taking all of his willpower to not shift restlessly in his seat like Natasha is. They’re locked in a battle of wills, now, and Steve is determined to win.

 

“She did, pulled my cock out and then left me there, fully clothed, against the door, while she pulled her dress down. Just the top, Nat, because we didn’t have much time. And we were so close to the party. I could still hear everyone. I could hear you, when you were at the bar. You asked where I was. What would you have thought, if you had seen me?” Steve grins, wolflike, as Nat’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as if she’s picturing it, before he picks up the thread again. “She pulled the top of that red dress down, just below her tits, and God, she has such nice tits, Nat. Her bra was this lacy black thing, no straps at all. And she wouldn’t even let me touch. She was in charge, that night. Maria got those gorgeous tits out, and she came back over to me, and you know what she did, Nat?”

 

Natasha shook her head, and the messy knot she had tied her hair in hours before was falling apart, tendrils falling down around her face. She, like Steve, was in loungewear, ready for a sleepover, and Steve noticed the hard points of her nipples straining against the tee shirt that had probably once been Clint’s, if the garish purple color was any indication. Her ass was perched on the edge of her seat, and her heels were splayed out to the sides, putting her knees down toward the floor. If she were to shift just a few inches, she would be on her knees in front of the couch. Steve tries to ignore the jolt in his stomach that the thought gives him. “No, Steve. Tell me. Please.”

 

“She let me fuck ‘em, Nat. She came up to me on her knees, pressed me against the door, and let me fuck her tits while she played with her cunt. And you know what else? She wouldn’t let me come, Nat. Maria is used to calling the shots, you know? So she wouldn’t let me come until she did.”

 

“Oh, god,” Nat breathed, and she slid a little farther down toward the floor.

 

“And the thing about the serum is when I come? There’s so _much_ of it, Nat. So when she finally let me, it was all over her. It was on her, and her dress. We’re lucky it didn’t make more of a mess.”

 

“How did,” Nat begins, and her voice already sounds so fucked she blindly grabs for her wine to take another sip before trying again. “How did you clean up? I mean, if it was everywhere. I already know it was on her dress. That’s how we got into this mess. But if it was everywhere, Steve…”

 

The leather of the armchair creaks as Steve sits up and leans toward Nat a bit more, temporarily obscuring the tent his cock has made in his pants. “Well, Nat, I did what any good spy does to get rid of evidence. I ate it.”

 

A thud echoes through the house as Nat finally falls completely to her knees, and Steve leans back and spreads his wider, showing himself off to her. “Christ, Steve,” she groans, looking up at him with wonder. “Who _are_ you?”

 

Steve smiles at Nat and holds his hand out to her, palm up. A thrill shivers up his spine when she quickly abandons her attempt to stand, and instead crawls to him, before resting her head in his hand. His thumb strokes tenderly across her cheekbone a few times before he leans down to whisper in her ear, “Should I tell you about me ‘n Thor, next?”

 

+++++

 

Nat is laying on Steve’s bed in her panties and tee shirt while Steve stands at the foot of it, looking down at her appraisingly, still fully dressed. “I feel like we should use safewords.”

 

She pauses a moment, and then shrugs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Traffic lights work for- wait. Okay, I know I said I didn’t buy into the whole virtue thing, but you know about safewords?”

 

“Internet, so helpful,” Steve says with a wry grin. “And yeah, traffic lights are great. How do you feel about toys?” He’s toying with the hem of his shirt, not anxious, but excited. All of his sexual encounters seem to be spur of the moment, no time for discussion. He hasn’t had an opportunity to actually talk something out with a partner like this, not since he has come out of the ice.

 

“Hm. For you or for me?” Natasha undulates her body, trying to get some friction without touching herself outright. She wants to see what kind of game Steve has in mind.

 

“I was hoping for you, but I don’t hate them either, if you’re not interested.” Steve goes to his closet and pulls down a small storage box, the size of a shoebox, and grabs something small enough that it can be hidden in one of his long-fingered hands

 

“Well, let me see, and I’ll let you know.” Nat’s breath catches when Steve uncurls his hand, and she feels her pulse throb hard in her clit and her nipples all at once. Nestled in Steve’s hand, glinting softly in the low light, is a delicate silver chain connecting two heavy looking nipple clamps. “Oh,” she says, and Nat reaches out toward them before stopping. “Me, please. Can I please wear them, Steve?”

 

Steve sits on the bed next to Nat’s hip and leans down to press a kiss to her brow. “Of course. Take off your clothes for me, Nat.” She scrambles to obey, and neither of them really care where her tee or panties end up. They’ve got more important things to worry about. Once she’s laying down again, in forced stillness, Steve watches where her pulse jumps in her neck, her abdomen. He picks up the first clamp and opens it up, ghosting it over her already taut nipple. It’s flushed blood-dark like her lips, and he wants desperately to taste. But he wants to do this for her even more. “Breathe in for me, doll,” he murmurs, and attaches the first clamp.

 

The breath that Natasha gasps in is so sharp it almost sounds like a shriek, and she throws her head back into the pillow. “Fuck, Steve, fuck.”

 

“Not even close, Nat, but nice try.” Steve grabs the clamp at the other end of the chain and pulls it up until the chain is fully extended, and then he tugs it a little farther so that it pulls on Nat’s nipple. Judging by the whine he gets, it works. He smirks at her and holds the chain taut with one hand while attaching the clamp to Natasha’s other nipple with his other hand.

 

Her shrieking gasp sound is repeated, but this time her entire back arches up, and Steve pulls on the chain, making him look like a puppeteer for a moment before she slumps back to the bed. When he lets go, the cool metal of the chain puddles in the valley between between her breasts, and Steve can just barely hear it shift with each of her breaths.

 

When Nat feels like she can speak again, she looks at Steve where he’s still sitting next to her hip, one leg curled underneath him. “You’re a little overdressed there, soldier. Gonna give a girl a complex.”

 

Steve leans down until his nose is almost brushing Nat’s, and reaches up to grab the chain and tug again before dropping it. “Everything about you is complex, Nat.” He lightly kisses her nose before leaning back and pulling off his shirt. He barely reacts to her leering gaze, now, especially since he knows what comes next. “Remember when you asked what Maria had on me, to keep me quiet?”

 

“Hmm? Uh. Yeah, of course, but-” Natasha’s words die in her throat as Steve drops his pants and stands before her in a pair of charcoal grey lace panties. “Steve?”

 

“Well, I came so much, some of it got on my underwear when it dripped down my cock. And Maria was nice enough to let me borrow her panties for the rest of the night. As it turns out I, uh.” Steve shifts his weight, and his cock twitches. “I really liked it. They make these, for men now. I have a whole drawer of them. What do you think?”

 

“I think you need to get your supersoldier ass back over here so one of us can come sometime this year, Christ, Rogers, we’re not getting any younger.” Natasha sits up, and the chain is heavier than she thought. She takes a breath and relishes in the weight of it pulling her nipples down, the tingling pleasure of the restricted blood flow. When Steve is close enough, Nat reaches out and rakes her nails down his abs until she is cupping his twitching, blood-hot cock. A hum rumbles deep in his chest, and he grinds forward into her hand before stepping back.

 

“Lay on your back.” Steve watches as Nat scrambles to obey, settling herself into the pillows. She’s given up on regulating her breathing, and her fingers are twisting in the bedclothes already. Her usually bright eyes are darkened by lust as she watches Steve mount the bed and shoulder his way between her thighs, throwing a leg over each shoulder as he works his way up.

 

Steve reaches up and wraps his hands around Nat’s waist, and it makes her feel so small, and, surprisingly, _safe_. He rests his chin on her mons, uncaring of the close-cropped hair that’s tickling him there. “Let me know if you don’t want anything, okay? I mean it, Nat.”

 

“Red, yellow, green. I remember the traffic lights, Steve. I’m all yours for the taking tonight.” Natasha runs a hand through his hair, gently scraping her nails across the scalp.

 

Steve nods at her, and then he grins, tongue between his teeth, before lowering his head between her thighs.

 

+++++

“Fu-uu-uuck!” Natasha screams as another orgasm rips through her. What number is she on? Three? Four? Her body is humming with oversensitivity but she can’t get enough.

 

Steve gentles his suction as she comes down, slows the pulsing of his fingers inside her, releases the tension of the chain on her nipples.

 

“One more,” he gasps, pulling his mouth free and laying his head on her thigh, “Please, Nat, can I give you one more?”

 

“I thought you were in charge,” she half laughs, but when she looks down and sees the sincerity in his eyes, she can’t tease him. “Steve,” she sighs, her voice broken and fucked out. “Of course you can. Remember? For tonight, I’m yours.”

 

Pressing his crooked nose into the crease where her thigh meets her hip, Steve closes his eyes, inhales deeply, before exhaling, “Thank you.”

 

Natasha wasn’t ready. She thought, with as much as she had come already, that she knew what she was in for. A steady build, inexorable, a mind-numbing orgasm, and a gentle comedown. She was not prepared for the single minded aggression that Steve was now utilizing to hunt down her next orgasm.

 

Steve doesn’t build her up gentle and steady this time. He plunges a third finger into her dripping cunt, and unerringly begins tapping them into her g-spot. When Nat’s hips twist, bucking both into and away from his fingers, he holds her down with his other arm, catching the chain connecting her nipple clamps between his middle and ring fingers. Steve has Natasha held completely immobile, the fingers of both hands pulsing in time with each other, and then he latches his lips over her clit, and sucks on it, double-time.

 

“Shit, shit, shit, Steve.” Nat’s hands are all over the place. Her hair, Steve’s hair, the sheets, the pillows, even her own tits once or twice. “Steve, fuck, I need more.”

 

He pulls off with a loud slurping noise, face incredulous. “More? Shit, doll, I’ve only got two hands.”

 

Groaning with frustration, Nat pulls the chain from between Steve’s fingers and puts it between her teeth. “Then fucking _use them_ ,” she seethes, and she crosses her ankles over Steve’s back to hoist up her hips and grind them impossibly hard into his hand.

 

“Hey,” Steve snaps, and shit, he doesn’t even have to try anymore and his Captain America voice comes out. “Lay the fuck down, Natasha, and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

 

It’s like all her strings have been cut, and she slumps down, completely boneless. Steve follows her down and pulls back to take a look. Her inner thighs and the bottoms of her buttocks are glossy with the evidence of her orgasms and arousal, and the pads of Steve’s fingers are wrinkled like he’s been playing in water, Natasha is so sopping wet. He takes his dry finger and reaches back behind where he is still buried three fingers deep in her, to trace a dry finger around the outside of her other hole. “Is this what you want, Nat?” Steve whispers, and he can hardly hear himself over the rushing of blood in his ears. “You want me buried in your ass and your cunt? Just can’t get enough?”

 

“Yes,” she hisses, teeth still clenched around the chain, and when she throws her head to the side, it pulls again, making her squeal. It’s the sweetest kind of torture, and although Natasha knows she could stop it, she chooses not to.

 

“Fuck, doll. Alright, I gotcha.” Gently, so gently, he withdraws his fingers from where they’d been drumming against her g-spot. After some shuffling and situating, Steve sinks his still wet middle finger into Nat’s ass, and she whines, loud and long, only to be cut off by a shout when he plunges two fingers from his other hand back into her empty cunt, and straight to her g-spot again. He never gives her a chance to catch her breath before he dives in and latches on to her clit, and Nat is overwhelmed. Her head is thrashing, which is only adding to the sensation, and Steve speeds up his tempo to match.

 

Natasha feels her orgasm rushing up on her, from every part of her at once. Toes, fingers, hair. Every part of her body is alive, and she feels the strangest sensation pulling up from her pelvic floor to rush in with her impending orgasm. Her eyes fly open when she realizes, and she doesn’t know if she wants to stop it or let it happen. “Steve, fuck. Steve. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna, gonna, gonna-” She never gets the chance to warn him the way she meant to. Her scream _hurts_ with the way it’s ripped out of her throat, and if she could hear anything beyond it, she would have heard Steve groaning in a similar way.

 

Steve feels her inner muscles clenching over and over, harder and harder, pulling both of his hands in as her orgasm begins. The finger in her ass stops its thrusting, and he just pulses it gently while she bears down, while he continues to press mercilessly into her g-spot, and her come begins dripping down his fingers, his wrist, and collecting in his elbow. Steve loves this, loves making a woman come so hard she sees other galaxies, and that she leaves him soaked and debauched. So when hot wetness hits his throat and begins dripping down his chest, smelling of sweetness and musk and _Natasha_ , Steve can’t help his mouth dropping open as he shudders through his own orgasm.

 

Once he’s sure Natasha is done, he begins babbling soothing nonsense to her and pressing kisses to her as he eases his fingers free. He expects whimpers or whines of discomfort. He doesn’t expect the soft, “nooo,” and pouty bottom lip.

 

“I thought you’d be done by now,” Steve chides gently, reaching up to release a nipple clamp. He never gets the chance to, because Natasha smacks his hand away and scowls at him.

 

“I might be. But you aren’t.” She raises a challenging eyebrow, and is trying far too hard to sound nonchalant, considering she can’t actually hold herself up.

 

“Um. About that.” Steve catches Nat’s eye and gestures to the wet spot and the front of his panties.

 

“Yes. And? Are you telling me that you’ve got all that super serum and you’re still a one and done? Because it looks to me like your soldier is still at attention.” Natasha leans back against the pillows once more and cups her breasts. “Besides,” she says, “I can’t let Maria have something that I don’t.”

 

Steve sighs, dropping his head forward and shaking it before he stands up on shaky legs and walks up toward the head of the bed, until he’s level with Nat’s head. He pulls his panties off, grimacing slightly at the feel of the cooling come, until he’s standing next to her, fully nude. “Is this what you were looking for?”

 

Nat winks at him, “You know it,” she says, before pressing a kiss to the head of his cock and laying back again. “Get up here and fuck them, Steve, we don’t have all day.” Mounting the bed and straddling Nat’s waist, Steve opens his mouth to speak, but Natasha cuts him off. “Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure.” Gently, she loops the chain around the head of his cock. Not enough to threaten damage, but enough to cause sensation when he moves.

 

“This probably won’t take long,” Steve warns, and somehow Natasha’s gentle nod is all the reassurance he needs. His cock is still almost wet from his earlier orgasm, but it’s getting tacky quick. “Shit, I need to grab lube, hold on,” he goes to dismount so that he can reach the drawer, but a soft hand on his thigh stops him.

 

“No lube,” Nat says, and her voice has gone husky again. “Don’t use lube. I’m… Spit? Spit on me.”

 

“What?” Steve’s heart is pounding in his ears, and he doesn’t miss the way that precum has started dripping from his cock, leaving glittering streaks across Natasha’s creamy tits.

 

“Your dick is still kinda wet, and I can feel you leaking. I’m going to be sweating. And… fuck it. And it’s hot, okay? Fucking spit on your cock, and my tits, and fuck them, Christ.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re killing me,” Steve groans as he lets the saliva start pooling in his mouth.

 

“But what a way to go,” Nat says, running her hands up Steve’s torso to play with his nipples.

 

Steve grabs her hands and holds them on either side of his neck as he tilts his head forward and lets his spit pour out of his mouth and all over his cock and Nat’s tits, immediately making the abortive little thrusts he’d been making a smooth grind. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and then Steve tucks his cock down between Natasha’s tits and sets a pace.

 

He keeps thrusting, and every time Natasha surprises him with a spark of pain, he jolts and increases his pace. Natasha pulls herself into a half crunch position against the pillows, far enough up to lick the weeping head of his cock, causing Steve to gasp. When she spits on them, where their bodies are joined, he groans, and can only give two more thrusts before he’s hunched over, curled protectively around Natasha’s head and coming ferociously.

 

As Steve’s cock releases stripes of hot come across Nat’s tits, her chest, her throat, even her chin and jaw, she sighs softly as a small, final orgasm flutters through her, leaving her feeling as though she’s full of light and warmth. Two bright flares of pain sear through the warmth, bringing her sharply back to her body, and the sensation of Steve’s lips and tongue gently cleaning her off between words of gentle praise.

 

When Steve has her cleaned up to his own satisfaction, he wraps his arms around her and is struck by how small she really is. The sheets really need to be changed, but for now, it’ll keep. And so he rolls them over onto the drier side, and they gently drift to sleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for sticking with this pornstrosity! Check back soon for the +1 installment as a sequel to this piece, and to see the final piece of art!

**Author's Note:**

> This is, at its core, a 5+1 story. However, I want to be able to do the +1 part of the story justice, so I will be posting it in the next few days as a sequel to this work with the accompanying art by thefilthiestpiglet.
> 
> Please let me know if I missed tagging anything, and BE. NICE.


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